Character Commentary: The Ruins of Gorlan
by The Phoenix Reporter
Summary: King Duncan calls Will, Alyss, Gilan, Jenny, Horace, Cassandra, Crowley, Arald, Rodney, Halt, and Pauline to read them a story.
1. Introduction

**I do NOT claim to own this story or any characters or places in it.**

 **This is my first story, so bear with me.**

 **A note from the author: Whenever I say "everyone laughed" or "everybody chuckled" I usually mean everyone but Halt, since he's usually very serious.**

 **Constructive criticism and reviews are welcome, but inappropriate material and profanity are NOT!**

 **Now, welcome to my world of fantasy...**

* * *

 **Introduction**

"Why do you think King Duncan asked us here, Honey?" called Will to his wife Alyss.

"I think," replied Alyss, "that if you ask me one more question I will kick you out to the stables!" She spoke the last two words with so much vehemence that Will quickly resolved to himself that he would stop asking so many questions. Alyss, seeing the rather hurt look on her husband's face said, "I'm sorry, Will; I'm just tired from the journey here."

It had been a rough ride for her, Will realized. As a Ranger, Will was used to all sorts of weather. On the other hand, Alyss was a Diplomat and was not accustomed to slogging through rain and deep mud.

There was a loud, official-sounding knock at the door. Will opened the door to find a young boy. "A page," thought Will to himself.

"The King requests that you come to his private study in an hour's time," announced the page.

"Very well. Thank you," replied Will as he shut the door.

"Well, Will, at least you'll find the answer to your question soon," smiled Alyss.

 **o**

Crowley was the first to arrive. "Aaahh, good old Crowley," thought King Duncan, who was already seated in his study. "Never late, and yet he probably has the busiest schedule of us all."

Crowley was followed quickly by Arald and Rodney, who in turn were followed by Halt and Pauline. Eventually they all came in, Sir Horace and Princess Cassandra, Battlemaster Rodney, Baron Arald, Ranger Gilan, Ranger Halt and Diplomat Pauline, Ranger Will and Diplomat Alyss. And then, last of all, came Jenny.

Amid friendly greetings, hugs, and backslapping, King Duncan cleared his throat and made an announcement. "Now I'm sure you all are wondering why I summoned you here. Well, the answer is, I wanted to read you a book." Silence. "What, no outbursts, no fits of rage?" he questioned. "I'm pleasantly surprised. Now, to start at the beginning." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I received a package a while ago. Unfortunately, I was very busy then and didn't have a chance to examine it until a couple weeks ago. I found in it a book titled _The Ruins of Gorlan_ by Jon Flanagyn. The book is the first in a cycle about Will's life."

At this point Horace interrupted. "Wait a minute, d'you mean _our_ Will?"

"Of course, who other?" smiled Cassandra as she gently slapped her husband's head. He looked sheepishly to the ground and grinned while everyone chuckled.

"Yes, to answer your question, Horace, our Will," smiled the king. "So when I noticed it was about Will, I thought it would be enjoyable to have the closest people in Will's life, and of course Will himself, come and read it together."

As everyone chimed in with their agreement, Duncan announced, "And, using my power as King, I decree that Will shall read the first chapter."

Will, slightly embarrassed with all the attention he was getting, took the book and began to read.


	2. Prologue

**I do NOT claim to own any part of this story.**

 **Polite reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated.**

 **No Profanity or inappropriate material!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **Morgarath,** Will started.

"Wait a bit, I thought this book was about Will!" Gilan interjected.

"Gilan," said Halt with mock patience, "if you're going to make an interruption every two words, this'll take until NEXT SPRING!"

"Oh, sorry Halt," Gilan said, subdued.

 **he Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night, former Baron of Gorlan in the Kingdom of Araluen,** Will continued.

"He seems to have quite a title, eh?"

"Gilan," Halt warned.

 **looked out over his bleak, rainswept domain and, for perhaps the thousandth time, cursed.**

 **This was all that was left to him now - a jumble of rugged granite cliffs, tumbled boulders and icy mountains. Of sheer gorges and steep narrow passes. Of gravel and rock, with never a tree or a sign of green to break the monotony,** Will read.

"No wonder he wanted t'come back"

"Be quiet Gilan!" said Will and Crowley simultaneously.

 **Even though it had been fifteen years since he had been driven back into this forbidding realm that had become his prison, he could still remember the pleasant green glades and thickly forested hills of his former fief. The streams filled with fish and the fields rich with crops and game. Gorlan had been a beautiful, living place. The Mountains of Rain and Night were dead and desolate.**

"Good," interjected Cassandra.

 **A platoon of Wargals was drilling in the castle yard below him. Morgarath watched them for a few seconds, listening to the guttural, rhythmic chant that accompanied all their movements. They were stocky, misshapen beings, with features that were halfway human, but with a long, brutish muzzle and fangs like a bear or a large dog.**

 **Avoiding all contact with humans, the Wargals had lived and bred in these remote mountains since ancient times. No one in living memory had ever set eyes upon one, but rumors and legends had persisted of a savage tribe of semi-intelligent beasts in the mountains. Morgarath, planning a revolt against the Kingdom of Araluen, had left Gorlan Fief to seek them out. If such creatures existed, they would give him an edge in the war that was to come.**

 **It took him months, but he eventually found them. Aside from their wordless chant, Wargals had no spoken language, relying on a primitive form of thought awareness for communication.**

"We'll have to put that thought awareness in the books," thought Crowley.

 **But their minds were simple and their intellects basic. As a result, they had been totally susceptible to domination by a superior intelligence and willpower. Morgarath bent them to his will and they became the perfect army for him-ugly beyond nightmares, utterly pitiless and bound totally to his mental orders.**

 **Now, looking at them, he remembered the brightly dressed knights in glittering armor who used to compete in tourneys at Castle Gorlan, their silk-gowned ladies cheering them on and applauding their skills. Mentally comparing them to these black-furred, misshapen creatures, he cursed again.**

"I don't blame'im," said Rodney "Compared to trained knights, Wargals are a bunch of pigs."

 **The Wargals, attuned to his thoughts, sensed his disturbance and stirred uncomfortably, pausing in what they were doing. Angrily, he directed them back to their drill and the chanting resumed.**

"We could of used that in the war," interjected Arald. "If we could've upset Margarath, we would've upset the whole Wargal army."

 **Morgarath moved away from the unglazed window, closer to the fire that seemed utterly incapable of dispelling the damp and chill from this gloomy castle. Fifteen years, he thought to himself again. Fifteen years since he had rebelled against the newly crowned King Duncan, a youth in his twenties. He had planned it all carefully as the old king's sickness progressed, banking on the indecision and confusion that would follow his death to split the other barons and give Morgarath his opportunity to seize the throne.**

"Huh, see how that went," injected Gilan.

 **Secretly, he had trained his army of Wargals, massing them up here in the mountains, ready for the moment to strike. Then, in the days of confusion and grief following the king's death, when the barons traveled to Castle Araluen for the funeral rites, leaving their armies leaderless, he had attacked, overrunning the southeastern quarter of the kingdom in a matter of days, routing the confused, leaderless forces that tried to oppose him.**

 **Duncan, young and inexperienced, could never have stood against him. The kingdom was his for the taking. The throne was his for the asking.**

 **Then Lord Northolt, the old king's supreme army commander, had rallied some of the younger barons into a loyal confederation, giving strength to Duncan's resolve and stiffening the wavering courage of the others. The armies had met at Hackham Heath, close by the Slipsunder River, and the battle swayed in the balance for five hours, with attack and counterattack and massive loss of life.**

"I lost many friends in that battle," Rodney said.

"We all did," consoled King Duncan before Will started to read again.

 **The Slipsunder was a shallow river, but its treacherous reaches of quicksand and soft mud had formed an impassable barrier, protecting Morgarath's right flank.**

 **But then one of those gray-cloaked meddlers known as Rangers led a force of heavy cavalry across a secret ford ten kilometers upstream. The armored horsemen appeared at the crucial moment of the battle and fell upon the rear of Morgarath's army.**

Will thumped Halt soundly on the back.

 **The Wargals, trained in the tumbled rocks of the mountains, had one weakness. They feared horses and could never stand against such a surprise cavalry attack. They broke, retreating to the narrow confines of Three Step Pass, and back to the Mountains of Rain and Night. Morgarath, his rebellion defeated, went with them.**

 **And here he had been exiled these fifteen years. Waiting, plotting, hating the men who had done this to him.**

 **Now, he thought, it was time for his revenge. His spies told him the kingdom had grown slack and complacent and his presence here was all but forgotten. The name Morgarath was a name of legend nowadays, a name mothers used to hush fractious children, threatening that if they did not behave, the black lord Morgarath would come for them.**

"Kind of ironic, huh?" Arald interrupted. "That mothers would threaten Morgarath's wrath all those years, only for it to come true."

 **The time was ripe. Once again, he would lead his Wargals into an attack. But this time he would have allies. And this time he would sow the ground with uncertainty and confusion beforehand. This time none of those who conspired against him previously would be left alive to aid King Duncan.**

 **For the Wargals were not the only ancient, terrifying creatures he had found in these somber mountains. He had two other allies, even more fearsome-the dreadful beasts known as the Kalkara.**

 **The time was ripe to unleash them.**

"That's the end of the Prologue," Will concluded.

"Did you notice how Flanagyn used the phrase 'the time is ripe' two time in a few paragraphs?" Pauline remarked.

"Who want's to read next?" questioned Will.

"I will," answered Crowley, who figured he wasn't going to be mentioned this early in the story.


	3. Chapter 1

**As always, I don't claim to own this book or anything in it.**

 **Constructive criticism and reviews are welcome.**

 **Thanks for the follows and the comments guys.**

 **No inappropriate material!**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **"Try to eat something, Will. Tomorrow is a big day, after all."**

 **Jenny, blond, pretty and cheerful,**

Jenny blushed.

 **gestured toward** **Will's barely touched plate and smiled encouragingly at him. Will made an attempt to return the smile, but it was a dismal failure. He picked at the plate before him, piled high with his favorite foods. Tonight, his stomach knotted tight with tension and anticipation, he could hardly bring himself to swallow a bite.**

"I remember this," said Will. "It was the day before Choosing Day."

 **Tomorrow would be a big day, he knew. He knew it all too well, in fact. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, because tomorrow was the Choosing Day and it would determine how he spent the rest of his life.**

 **'Nerves, I imagine,' said George, setting down his loaded fork and seizing the lapels of his jacket in a judicious manner. He was a thin, gangly and studious boy, fascinated by rules and regulations and with a penchant for examining and debating both sides of any question-sometimes at great length.**

"That's definitely George," Alyss laughed, and all the other ex-wardmates chuckled.

 **"Dreadful thing, nervousness. It can just freeze you up so you can't think, can't eat, can't speak."**

 **"I'm not nervous," Will said quickly, noticing that Horace had looked up, ready to form a sarcastic comment.**

 **George nodded several times, considering Will's statement. "On the other hand," he added, "a little nervousness can actually improve performance. It can heighten your perceptions and sharpen your reactions. So, the fact that you are worried, if, in fact, you are, is not necessarily something to be worried about, of itself-so to speak."**

 **In spite of himself, a wry smile touched Will's mouth. George would be a natural in the legal profession, he thought. He would almost certainly be the Scribemaster's choice on the following morning. Perhaps, Will thought, that was at the heart of his own problem. He was the only one of the wardmates who had any fears about the Choosing that would take place within twelve hours.**

 **"He ought to be nervous!" Horace scoffed. "After all, which Craftmaster is going to want him as an apprentice?"**

"Horace, how rude!" cried Cassandra disapprovingly.

"Sorry Cass, it's just that Will and me weren't the best of friends in those days," Horace sighed.

 **"I'm sure we're all nervous," Alyss said. She directed one of her rare smiles at Will. "We'd be stupid not to be."**

 **"Well, I'm not!" Horace said, then reddened as Alyss raised one eyebrow and Jenny giggled.**

A round of giggles swept the room as Horace grinned ruefully.

 **It was typical of Alyss, Will thought. He knew that the tall, graceful girl had already been promised a place as an apprentice by Lady Pauline, head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Service. Her pretense that she was nervous about the following day, and her tact in refraining from pointing out Horace's gaffe, showed that she was already a diplomat of some skill.**

"That's for sure," said Pauline as she smiled at Alyss.

 **Jenny, of course, would gravitate immediately to the castle kitchens, domain of Master Chubb, Redmont's head chef. He was a man renowned throughout the kingdom for the banquets served in the castle's massive dining hall. Jenny loved food and cooking, and her easygoing nature and unfailing good humor would make her an invaluable staff member in the turmoil of the castle kitchens.**

 **Battleschool would be Horace's choice. Will glanced at his wardmate now, hungrily tucking into the roast turkey, ham and potatoes that he had heaped onto his plate. Horace was big for his age and a natural athlete. The chances that he would be refused were virtually nonexistent. Horace was exactly the type of recruit that Sir Rodney looked for in his warrior apprentices. Strong, athletic, fit. And, thought Will a trifle sourly, not too bright.**

"Well at least _I'm_ not the only one being rude," said Horace cheekily.

 **Battleschool was the path to knighthood for boys like Horace-born commoners but with the physical abilities to serve as knights of the kingdom.**

 **Which left Will. What would his choice be? More importantly, as Horace had pointed out, what Craftmaster would accept him as an apprentice?**

"You sold yourself short son," said Arald in a fatherly way.

 **For Choosing Day was the pivotal point in the life of the castle wards. They were orphan children raised by the generosity of Baron Arald, the Lord of Redmont Fief. For the most part, their parents had died in the service of the fief, and the Baron saw it as his responsibility to care for and raise the children of his former subjects-and to give them an opportunity to improve their station in life wherever possible.**

All the former wardmates nodded their thanks to the Baron.

 **Choosing Day provided that opportunity.**

 **Each year, castle wards turning fifteen could apply to be apprenticed to the masters of the various crafts that served the castle and its people. Ordinarily, craft apprentices were selected by dint of their parents' occupations or influence with the Craftmasters. The castle wards usually had no such influence and this was their chance to win a future for themselves.**

 **Those wards who weren't chosen, or for whom no openings could be found, would be assigned to farming families in the nearby village, providing farm labor to raise the crops and animals that fed the castle inhabitants. It was rare for this to happen, Will knew. The Baron and his Craftmasters usually went out of their way to fit the wards into one craft or another. But it could happen and it was a fate he feared more than anything.**

 **Horace caught his eye now and gave him a smug smile. " Still planning on applying for Battleschool, Will?" he asked through a mouthful of turkey and potatoes. "Better eat something then. You'll need to build yourself up a little"**

 **He snorted with laughter and Will glowered at him. A few weeks previously, Horace had overheard Will confiding to Alyss that he desperately wanted to be selected for Battleschool, and he had made Will's life a misery ever since, pointing out on every possible occasion that Will's slight build was totally unsuited for the rigors of Battleschool training.**

"Horace, I'm warning you!" cried Cassandra disapprovingly.

"Sorry Cass, it's just that it's all in the past now."

 **The fact that Horace was probably right only made matters worse. Where Horace was tall and muscular, Will was small and wiry. He was agile and fast and surprisingly strong, but he simply didn't have the size that he knew was required of Battleschool apprentices. He'd hoped against hope for the past few years that he would have what people called his "growing spurt" before the Choosing Day came around. But it had never happened and now the day was nearly here.**

 **As Will said nothing, Horace sensed that he had scored a verbal hit. This was a rarity in their turbulent relationship. Over the past few years, he and Will had clashed repeatedly. Being the stronger of the two, Horace usually got the better of Will, although very occasionally Will's speed and agility allowed him to get in a surprise kick or a punch and then escape before Horace could catch him.**

"I'll have to find out more about this," thought Cassandra, making a mental note of it.

 **But while Horace generally had the best of their physical clashes, it was unusual for him to win any of their verbal encounters. Will's wit was as agile as the rest of him and he almost always managed to have the last word. In fact, it was this tendency that often led to trouble between them: Will was yet to learn that having the last word was not always a good idea. Horace decided now to press his advantage.**

 **"You need muscles to get into Battleschool, Will. Real muscles," he said, glancing at the others around the table to see if anyone disagreed. The other wards, uncomfortable at the growing tension between the two boys, concentrated on their plates." Particularly between the ears," Will replied and, unfortunately, Jenny couldn't refrain from giggling. Horace's face flushed and he started to rise from his seat. But Will was quicker and he was already at the door before Horace could disentangle himself from his chair. He contented himself with hurling a final insult after his retreating wardmate." That's right! Run away, Will No-Name! You're a no-name and nobody will want you as an apprentice!"**

There was a shocked silence. "Sorry Will," Horace said weakly.

"Apology accepted," replied Will smoothly.

 **In the anteroom outside, Will heard the parting sally and felt blood flush to his cheeks. It was the taunt he hated most, although he had tried never to let Horace know that, sensing that he would provide the bigger boy with a weapon if he did.**

"You were right-I probably would've used it more," confessed Horace.

 **The truth was, nobody knew Will's second name. Nobody knew who his parents had been. Unlike his yearmates, who had lived in the fief before their parents had died and whose family histories were known, Will had appeared, virtually out of nowhere, as a newborn baby. He had been found, wrapped in a small blanket and placed in a basket, on the steps of the ward building fifteen years ago. A note had been attached to the blanket, reading simply:**

 **His mother died in childbirth. His father died a hero. Please care for him.**

 **His name is Will.**

 **That year, there had been only one other ward. Alyss's father was a cavalry lieutenant who had died in the battle at Hackham Heath, when Morgarath's Wargal army had been defeated and driven back to the mountains. Alyss's mother, devastated by her loss, succumbed to a fever some weeks after giving birth.**

Will laid his hand over Alyss'.

 **So there was plenty of room in the Ward for the unknown child, and Baron Arald was, at heart, a kindly man.**

"Well well well, thank you for that!" the Baron said happily.

"Arald. You _do_ realize you're talking to a book, right?" Will asked. Arald turned beet red and everyone laughed.

 **Even though the circumstances were unusual, he had given permission for Will to be accepted as a ward of Castle Redmont. It seemed logical to assume that, if the note were true, Will's father had died in the war against Morgarath, and since Baron Arald had taken a leading part in that war, he felt duty bound to honor the unknown father's sacrifice.**

 **So Will had become a Redmont ward, raised and educated by the Baron's generosity. As time passed, the others had gradually joined him and Alyss until there were five in their year group. But while the others had memories of their parents or, in Alyss's case, people who had known them and who could tell her about them, Will knew nothing of his past.**

 **That was why he had invented the story that had sustained him throughout his childhood in the Ward. And, as the years passed and he added detail and color to the story, he eventually came to believe it himself.**

 **His father, he knew, had died a hero's death. So it made sense to create a picture of him as a hero—a knight warrior in full armor, fighting against the Wargal hordes, cutting them down left and right until eventually he was overcome by sheer weight of numbers. Will had pictured the tall figure so often in his mind, seeing every detail of his armor and his equipment but never being able to visualize his face.**

 **As a warrior, his father would expect him to follow in his footsteps. That was why selection for Battleschool was so important to Will.**

"That is, until I realized I was cut out to be a Ranger, not a knight," Will added.

 **And that was why the more unlikely it became that he would be selected, the more desperately he clung to the hope that he might.**

 **He exited from the Ward building into the darkened castle yard. The sun was long down and the torches placed every twenty meters or so on the castle walls shed a flickering, uneven light. He hesitated a moment. He would not return to the Ward and face Horace's continued taunts. To do so would only lead to another fight between them-a fight that Will knew that he would probably lose. George would probably try to analyze the situation for him, looking at both sides of the question and thoroughly confusing the issue. Alyss and Jenny might try to comfort him, he knew-Alyss particularly since they had grown up together. But at the moment he didn't want their sympathy and he couldn't face Horace's taunts, so he headed for the one place where he knew he could find solitude.**

 **The huge fig tree growing close by the castle's central tower had often afforded him a haven. Heights held no fear for Will and he climbed smoothly into the tree, continuing long after another might have stopped, until he was in the lighter branches at the very top-branches that swayed and dipped under his weight. In the past, he had often escaped from Horace up here. The bigger boy couldn't match Will's speed in the tree and he was unwilling to follow as high as this. Will found a convenient fork and wedged himself in it, his body giving slightly to the movement of the tree as the branches swayed in the evening breeze. Below, the foreshortened figures of the watch made their rounds of the castle yard.**

 **He heard the door of the Ward building open and, glancing down, saw Alyss emerge, looking around the yard for him in vain. The tall girl hesitated a few moments, then, seeming to shrug, turned back inside. The elongated rectangle of light that the open door threw across the yard was cut off as she closed the door softly behind her. Strange, he thought, how seldom people tend to look up.**

"That's definitely true," remarked Crowley. "In fact we teach it to all of our apprentices."

"It really is remarkable how seldom people look up," agreed Gilan.

"The book just said that, Gilan," Jenny wryly remarked.

"Oh, right, sorry," Gilan apologized, embarrassed.

 **There was a rustle of soft feathers and a barn owl landed on the next branch, its head swiveling, its huge eyes catching every last ray of the faint light. It studied him without concern, seeming to know it had nothing to fear from him. It was a hunter. A silent flyer. A ruler of the night.**

 **"At least you know who you are," he said softly to the bird. It swiveled its head again, then launched itself off into the darkness, leaving him alone with his thoughts.**

 **Gradually, as he sat there, the lights in the castle windows went out, one by one. The torches burnt down to smoldering husks and were replaced at midnight by the change of watch. Eventually, there was only one light left burning and that, he knew, was in the Baron's study, where the Lord of Redmont was still presumably at work, poring over reports and papers. The study was virtually level with Will's position in the tree and he could see the burly figure of the Baron seated at his desk.**

"Wait a moment, Will, besides for that one instance, did you spy on me?" Baron Arald asked curiously.

"No sir!" came the indignant reply.

 **Finally Baron Arald rose, stretched and leaned forward to extinguish the lamp as he left the room, heading for his sleeping quarters on the floor above. Now the castle was asleep, except for the guards on the walls, who kept constant watch.**

 **In less than nine hours, Will realized, he would face the Choosing. Silently, miserably, fearing the worst, he climbed down from the tree and made his way to his bed in the darkened boys' dormitory in the Ward.**

"Ooo, a cliff hanger!" cried Gilan in delight as Crowley passed the book off to Arald."Let's read another chapter!"

"Not until we have a snack," decided King Duncan.

"Donald, would you please fetch us some fruit, bread, and cheese and, oh yes, some coffee with honey please," he called to his butler, noting the yearning expressions on the faces of the Rangers.


	4. Chapter 2

**I do not claim to own the story or any content in it.**

 **Constructive criticism and polite reviews are welcome. Profanity and inappropriate material are NOT!**

 **Thank you for all the helpful comments and reviews.**

* * *

After they had finished their food, Baron Arald took _The Ruins of Gorlan_ and started reading.

 **"All right, candidates! This way! And look lively!" The speaker, or more correctly the shouter, was Martin, secretary to Baron Arald. As his voice echoed around the anteroom, the five wards rose uncertainly from the long wooden benches where they had been seated. Suddenly nervous now that the day had finally arrived, they began to shuffle forward, each one reluctant to be the first through the great ironbound door that Martin now held open for them." Come on, come on!" Martin bellowed impatiently. Alyss finally elected to lead the way, as Will had guessed she would. The others followed the willowy blonde girl. Now that someone had decided to lead, the rest of them were content to follow.**

 **Will looked around curiously as he entered the Baron's study. He'd never been in this part of the castle before.**

"But wait a minute," Baron Arald interrupted himself. "You had peeked through my window! Remember?"

"You're right sir, but I was only able to see your desk and profile," Will answered.

 **This tower, containing the administrative section and the Baron's private apartments, was seldom visited by those of low rank-such as castle wards. The room was huge. The ceiling seemed to tower above him and the walls were constructed of massive stone blocks, fitted together with only the barest lines of mortar between them. On the eastern wall was a huge window space-open to the elements but with massive wooden shutters that could be closed in the event of bad weather.**

"Now every time I look at them, I'll think of Will, looking in at me," Arald said with a laugh.

A round of giggles swept the room as they imagined Will, peeking in at an unsuspecting Baron Arald when he was doing his paperwork.

 **It was the same window he had seen through last night, he realized. Today, sunlight streamed in and fell on the huge oak table that Baron Arald used as a desk.**

 **"Come on now! Stand in line, stand in line!" Martin seemed to be enjoying his moment of authority.**

"He always does," Pauline remarked, which sent them into another fit of giggles.

 **The group shuffled slowly into line and he studied them, his mouth twisted in disapproval." In size place! Tallest this end!" He indicated the end where he wanted the tallest of the five to stand. Gradually, the group rearranged itself. Horace, of course, was the tallest. After him, Alyss took her position. Then George, half a head shorter than she and painfully thin. He stood in his usual stoop-shouldered posture. Will and Jenny hesitated. Jenny smiled at Will and gestured for him to go before her, even though she was possibly an inch taller than he was. That was typical of Jenny. She knew how Will agonized over the fact that he was the smallest of all the castle wards. As Will moved into the line, Martin's voice stopped him.**

 **"Not you! The girl's next." Jenny shrugged apologetically and moved into the place Martin had indicated. Will took the last place in the line, wishing Martin hadn't made his lack of height so apparent.**

"Thank you for that gesture, Jenny. It really meant a lot to me," Will said kindly.

 **"Come on! Smarten up, smarten up! Let's see you at attention there," Martin continued, then broke off as a deep voice interrupted him.**

 **"I don't believe that's totally necessary, Martin." It was Baron Arald, who had entered, unobserved, by way of a smaller door behind his massive desk. Now it was Martin who brought himself to what he considered to be a position of attention, with his skinny elbows held out from his sides, his heels forced together so that his unmistakably bowed legs were widely separated at the knees, and his head thrown back.**

At this point the whole room roared with laughter, and even Halt, who was usually so grim, chuckled.

 **Baron Arald raised his eyes to heaven. Sometimes his secretary's zeal on these occasions could be a little overwhelming. The Baron was a big man, broad in shoulder and waist and heavily muscled, as was necessary for a knight of the realm. It was well known, however, that Baron Arald was fond of his food and drink, so his considerable bulk was not totally attributable to muscle.**

Baron Arald frowned at the book. "Why, that's rather insulting! Yes yes, very insulting," he grumbled. Everyone else had the tact not to smile.

 **He had a short, neatly trimmed black beard that, like his hair, was beginning to show the traces of gray that went with his forty-two years. He had a strong jaw, a large nose and dark, piercing eyes under heavy brows. It was a powerful face, but not an unkind one, Will thought. There was a surprising hint of humor in those dark eyes. Will had noted it before, on the occasions when Arald had made his infrequent visits to the wards' quarters to see how their lessons and personal development were progressing.**

 **"Sir!" Martin said at top volume, causing the Baron to wince slightly. "The candidates are assembled!"**

 **"I can see that," Baron Arald replied patiently. "Perhaps you might be good enough to ask the Craftmasters to step in as well?"**

 **"Sir!" Martin responded, making an attempt to click his heels together. As he was wearing shoes of a soft, pliable leather, the attempt was doomed to failure.**

Yet another round of giggles, smothered this time, was heard.

 **He marched toward the main door of the study, all elbows and knees. Will was reminded of a rooster. As Martin laid his hand on the door handle, the Baron stopped him once more.**

 **"Martin?" he said softly. As the secretary turned an inquiring look back at him, he continued in the same quiet tone, "Ask them. Don't bellow at them. Craftmasters don't like that."**

"No, we certainly don't!" affirmed Rodney and Pauline, almost simultaneously.

 **"Yes, sir," said Martin, looking somewhat deflated. He opened the door and, making an obvious effort to speak in a lower tone, said, "Craftmasters. The Baron is ready now" The Craftschool heads entered the room in no particular order of precedence. As a group, they admired and respected one another and so rarely stood on strict ceremonial procedure. Sir Rodney, head of the Battleschool, came first. Tall and broad-shouldered like the Baron, he wore the standard battledress of chain mail shirt under a white surcoat emblazoned with his own crest, a scarlet wolfshead. He had earned that crest as a young man, fighting the wolfships of the Skandian sea raiders who constantly harried the kingdom's east coast. He wore a sword belt and sword, of course. No knight would be seen in public without one. He was around the Baron's age, with blue eyes and a face that would have been remarkably handsome if it weren't for the massively broken nose. He sported an enormous mustache but, unlike the Baron, he had no beard.**

 **Next came the Horsemaster, responsible for the care and training of the castle's mighty battlehorses. He had keen brown eyes, strong, muscular forearms and heavy wrists. He wore a simple leather vest over his woolen shirt and leggings. Tall riding boots of soft leather reached up past his knees.**

 **Lady Pauline followed. Slim, gray-haired and elegant, she had been a considerable beauty in her youth and still had the grace and style to turn men's heads.**

Halt look slightly alarmed at this.

 **Lady Pauline, who had been awarded the title in her own right for her work in foreign policy for the kingdom, was head of the Diplomatic Service in Redmont. Baron Arald regarded her abilities highly and she was one of his close confidants and advisers. Arald often said that girls made the best recruits to the Diplomatic Service. They tended to be more subtle than boys, who gravitated naturally to Battleschool. And while boys constantly looked to physical means as the way of solving problems, girls could be depended on to use their wits.**

"Too true, too true," the King wryly agreed.

 **It was perhaps only natural that Nigel, the Scribemaster, followed close behind Lady Pauline. They had been discussing matters of mutual interest while they waited for Martin to summon them. Nigel and Lady Pauline were close friends as well as professional colleagues. It was Nigel's trained scribes who prepared the official documents and communiques that were so often delivered by Lady Pauline's diplomats. He also advised on the exact wording of such documents, having an extensive background in legal matters. Nigel was a small, wiry man with a quick, inquisitive face that reminded Will of a ferret. His hair was glossy black, his features were thin and his dark eyes never ceased roaming the room.**

 **Master Chubb, the castle cook, came in last of all. Inevitably, he was a fat, round-bellied man, wearing a cook's white jacket and tall hat. He was known to have a terrible temper that could flare as quickly as oil spilled on a fire, and most of the wards treated him with considerable caution. Florid-faced and with red, rapidly receding hair, Master Chubb carried a wooden ladle with him wherever he went. It was an unofficial staff of office. It was also used quite often as an offensive weapon, landing with a resounding crack on the heads of careless, forgetful or slow-moving kitchen apprentices. Alone among the group, Jenny saw Chubb as something of a hero. It was her avowed intention to work for him and learn his skills, wooden ladle or no wooden ladle.**

 **There were other Craftmasters, of course. The Armorer and the Blacksmith were two. But only those Craftmasters who currently had vacancies for new apprentices would be represented today." The Craftmasters are assembled, sir!" Martin said, his voice rising in volume. Martin seemed to equate volume and the importance of the occasion in direct proportion.**

"Yes, yes he does," thought Arald to himself.

 **Once again, the Baron raised his eyes to heaven." So I see," he said quietly, then added, in a more formal tone, "Good morning, Lady Pauline. Good morning, gentlemen."**

 **They replied and the Baron turned to Martin once more. "Perhaps we might proceed?"**

 **Martin nodded several times, consulted a sheaf of notes he held in one hand and marched to confront the line of candidates. "Right, the Baron's waiting! The Baron's waiting! Who's first?" Will, eyes down, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, suddenly had the strange sensation that someone was watching him. He looked up and actually started with surprise as he met the dark, unfathomable gaze of Halt, the Ranger.**

 **Will hadn't seen him come into the room.**

"I'm surprised you saw me at all," Halt added.

 **He realized that the mysterious figure must have slipped in through a side door while everyone's attention was on the Craftmasters as they made their entrance. Now he stood behind the Baron's chair and slightly to one side, dressed in his usual brown and gray clothes and wrapped in his long, mottled gray and green Ranger's cloak. Halt was an unnerving person. He had a habit of coming up on you when you least expected it-and you never heard his approach. The superstitious villagers believed that Rangers practiced a form of magic that made them invisible to ordinary people. Will wasn't sure if he believed that-but he wasn't sure he disbelieved it either.**

Halt snorted.

 **He wondered why Halt was here today. He wasn't recognized as one of the Craftmasters and, as far as Will knew, he hadn't attended a Choosing session prior to this one.**

"How do you think we find our apprentices, we kidnap them?" asked Halt sarcastically.

 **Abruptly, Halt's gaze cut away from him and it was as if a light had been turned off. Will realized that Martin was talking once more. He noticed that the secretary had a habit of repeating statements, as if he were followed by his own personal echo." Now then, who's first? Who's first?" The Baron sighed audibly. "Why don't we take the first in line?" he suggested in a reasonable tone, and Martin nodded several times.**

 **"Of course, my lord. Of course. First in line, step forward and face the Baron."**

 **After a moment's hesitation, Horace stepped forward out of the line and stood at attention. The Baron studied him for a few seconds. "Name?" he said, and Horace answered, stumbling slightly over the correct method of address for the Baron.**

 **"Horace Altman, sir… my lord."**

 **"And do you have a preference, Horace?" the Baron asked, with the air of one who knows what the answer is going to be before hearing it.**

 **"Battleschool, sir!" Horace said firmly. The Baron nodded. He'd expected as much. He glanced at Rodney, who was studying the boy thoughtfully, assessing his suitability. "Battlemaster?" the Baron said. Normally he would address Rodney by his first name, not his title. But this was a formal occasion. By the same token, Rodney would usually address the Baron as "sir." But on a day like today, "my lord" was the proper form.**

 **The big knight stepped forward, his chain mail and spurs chinking slightly as he moved closer to Horace. He eyed the boy up and down, then moved behind him. Horace's head started to turn with him." Still," Sir Rodney said, and the boy ceased his movement, staring straight ahead.**

 **"Looks strong enough, my lord, and I can always use new trainees. "He rubbed one hand over his chin. "You ride, Horace Altman?"**

"That was the one thing I couldn't learn while I was a Ward," Horace chimed in.

 **A look of uncertainty crossed Horace's face as he realized this might be a hurdle to his selection. "Well… no, sir. I…" He was about to add that castle wards had little chance to learn to ride, but Sir Rodney interrupted him.**

 **"No matter. That can be taught." The big knight looked at the Baron and nodded. "Very well, my lord. I'll take him for Battleschool, subject to the usual three-month probationary period."**

 **The Baron made a note on a sheet of paper before him and smiled briefly at the delighted, and very relieved, youth before him." Congratulations, Horace. Report to Battleschool tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock sharp."**

 **"Yes, sir!" Horace replied, grinning widely. He turned to Sir Rodney and bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir!"**

 **"Don't thank me yet," the knight replied cryptically. "You don't know what you're in for."**

"Oh, was he right about that," Horace said with a wry chuckle.

Arald passed the book on to Rodney, who began to read.


	5. Chapter 3

**I do not claim to own the story or any of the characters or places in it.**

 **I've been getting a bunch of feedback, keep it up guys :)**

 **No inappropriate material or profanity please!**

* * *

 **"Who's next then?"**

Rodney began to read.

 **Martin was calling as Horace, grinning broadly, stepped back into the line. Alyss stepped forward gracefully, annoying Martin, who had wanted to nominate her as the next candidate.**

"He always did like to feel important," chuckled Baron Arald.

 **"Alyss Mainwaring, my lord," she said in her quiet, level voice. Then, before she could be asked, she continued, "I request an appointment to the Diplomatic Service, please, my lord."**

 **Arald smiled at the solemn-looking girl. She had an air of self-confidence and poise about her that would suit her well in the Service.**

"That it did, Alyss, that it did," nodded Lady Pauline in approval.

 **He glanced at Lady Pauline.**

 **"My lady?" he said.**

 **She nodded her head several times. "I've already spoken to Alyss, my lord. I believe she will be an excellent candidate. Approved and accepted."**

 **Alyss made a small bow of her head in the direction of the woman who would be her mentor. Will thought how alike they were-both tall and elegant in their movements, both grave in manner. He felt a small surge of pleasure for his oldest companion, knowing how much she had wanted this selection. Alyss stepped back in line and Martin, not to be forestalled this time, was already pointing to George.**

 **"Right! You're next! You're next! Address the Baron."**

 **George stepped forward. His mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.**

"Not a problem now," remarked Will, which sent the people familiar with Redmont into giggles.

 **The other wards watched in surprise. George, long regarded by them all as the official advocate for just about everything, was overcome with stage fright. He finally managed to say something in a low voice that nobody in the room could hear. Baron Arald leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear.**

 **"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that," he said.**

 **George looked up at the Baron and, with an enormous effort, spoke in a-just-audible voice. "G-George Carter, sir. Scribe school, sir."**

 **Martin, ever a stickler for the proprieties, drew breath to berate him for the truncated nature of his address. Before he could do so, and to everyone's evident relief, Baron Arald stepped in." Very well, Martin. Let it go. "Martin looked a little aggrieved, but subsided. The Baron glanced at Nigel, his chief scribe and legal officer, one eyebrow raised in question.**

 **"Acceptable, my lord," he said, adding, "I've seen some of George's work and he really does have a gift for calligraphy."**

 **The Baron looked doubtful. "He's not the most forceful of speakers, though, is he, Scribemaster? That could be a problem if he has to offer legal counsel at any time in the future."**

"Can you imagine," Jenny said. "George being asked to solve a dispute, and him just standing there, speechless." She giggled at the thought.

 **Nigel shrugged the objection aside. "I promise you, my lord, with proper training that sort of thing represents no problem. Absolutely no problem at all, my lord."**

 **The Scribemaster folded his hands together into the wide sleeves of the monk like habit he wore as he warmed to his theme.**

 **"I remember a boy who joined us some seven years back, rather like this one here, as a matter of fact. He had that same habit of mumbling to his shoes—but we soon showed him how to overcome it. Some of our most reluctant speakers have gone on to develop absolute eloquence, my lord, absolute eloquence."**

"He likes to repeat himself, doesn't he?" commented the King.

"He certainly does," Horace replied, smiling.

 **The Baron drew breath to comment, but Nigel continued in his discourse.**

 **"It may even surprise you to hear that as a boy, I myself suffered from a most terrible nervous stutter. Absolutely terrible, my lord. Could barely put two words together at a time."**

 **"Hardly a problem now, I see," the Baron managed to put in dryly, and Nigel smiled, taking the point. He bowed to the Baron.**

 **"Exactly, my lord. We'll soon help young George overcome his shyness. Nothing like the rough and tumble of Scribeschool for that. Absolutely."**

 **The Baron smiled in spite of himself. The Scribeschool was a studious place where voices were rarely, if ever, raised and where logical, reasoned debate reigned supreme. Personally, on his visits to the place, he had found it mind-numbing in the extreme. Anything less like a rough and tumble atmosphere he could not imagine.**

 **"I'll take your word for it," he replied, then to George he said, "Very well, George, request granted. Report to Scribeschool tomorrow."**

 **George shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Mumble-mumble-mumble," he said and the Baron leaned forward again, frowning as he tried to make out the low-pitched words.**

 **"What was that?" he asked.**

 **George finally looked up and managed to whisper, "Thank you, my lord." He hurriedly shuffled back to the relative anonymity of the line.**

 **"Oh," said the Baron, a little taken aback. "Think nothing of it. Now, next is…"**

"Wait a minute," Gilan asked. " Why were you taken aback, Baron?"

"Well, I suppose none of the others had thanked me directly yet," Arald said. "To tell the truth,"

"What else would you tell us, lies?" Gilan interrupted.

"It's called an expression, Gilan," Halt said dryly.

"But what if he was really telling us lies the whole time, and only now starting to tell the truth?" the younger Ranger contradicted.

"You really think he would tell us lies the whole time?" injected Will with a frown.

"All Rangers, shut up!" Horace shouted, for he knew that Ranger banter could be very lengthy. "Now, Arald, please continue," he added more calmly.

"To tell the truth," the Baron said with a glare at Gilan."I don't really remember very well."

"That was a very long question to a very short answer," Will pondered.

"Don't start up again," said King Duncan firmly. "Rodney, please read."

 **Jenny was already stepping forward. Blond and pretty, she was also, it had to be admitted, a little on the chubby side. But the look suited her, and at any of the castle's social functions, she was a much sought-after dance partner with the boys in the castle, both her yearmates in the Ward and the sons of castle staff as well.**

Gilan glared at any man who looked at Jenny for the next three paragraphs.

 **"Master Chubb, sir!" she said now, stepping forward right to the edge of the Baron's desk. The Baron looked into the round face, saw the eagerness shining there in the blue eyes, and couldn't help smiling at her.**

 **"What about him?" he asked gently and she hesitated, realizing that, in her enthusiasm, she had breached the protocol of the Choosing.**

"Yes, that was embarrassing," Jenny remembered.

 **"Oh! Your pardon, sir…my…Baron…your lordship," she hastily improvised, her tongue running away with her as she mangled the correct form of address.**

 **"My lord!" Martin prompted her. Baron Arald looked at him, eyebrows raised.**

 **"Yes, Martin?" he said. "What is it?" Martin had the grace to look embarrassed. He knew that his master was intentionally misunderstanding his interruption. He took a deep breath, and said in an apologetic tone, "I… simply wanted to inform you that the candidate's name is Jennifer Dalby, sir."**

 **The Baron nodded at him, and Martin, a devoted servant of the heavy bearded man, saw the look of approval in his lord's eyes. "Thank you, Martin. Now, Jennifer Dalby…"**

 **"Jenny, sir," said the irrepressible girl, and he shrugged resignedly. "Jenny, then. I assume that you are applying to be apprenticed to Master Chubb?"**

 **"Oh, yes, please, sir!" Jenny replied breathlessly, turning adoring eyes on the portly, red-haired cook. Chubb scowled thoughtfully and considered her." Mmmmm… could be, could be," he muttered, walking back and forth in front of her. She smiled winningly at him, but Chubb was beyond such feminine wiles.**

 **"I'd work hard, sir," she told him earnestly.**

 **"I know you would!" he replied with some spirit. "I'd make sure of it, girl. No slacking or lollygagging in my kitchen, let me tell you." Fearing that her opportunity might be slipping away, Jenny played her trump card.**

 **"I have the right shape for it," she said. Chubb had to agree that she was well rounded. Arald, not for the first time that morning, hid a smile." She has a point there, Chubb," he put in, and the cook turned to him in agreement." Shape is important, sir. All great cooks tend to be… rounded." He turned back to the girl, still considering. It was all very well for the others to accept their trainees in the wink of an eye, he thought. But cooking was something special.**

Will had not realized until now how hard it was for his friends to get the positions they wanted. With the exception of Alyss, all of them had struggled.

 **"Tell me," he said to the eager girl, "what would you do with a turkey pie?"**

 **Jenny smiled dazzlingly at him. "Eat it," she answered immediately. Chubb rapped her on the head with the ladle he carried. "I meant what would you do about cooking it?" he asked.**

 **Jenny hesitated, gathered her thoughts, then plunged into a lengthy technical description of how she would go about constructing such a masterpiece. The other four wards, the Baron, his Craftmasters and Martin listened in some awe, with absolutely no comprehension of what she was saying. Chubb, however, nodded several times as she spoke, interrupting as she detailed the rolling of the pastry.**

 **"Nine times, you say?" he said curiously and Jenny nodded, sure of her ground.**

 **"My mother always said: 'Eight times to make it flaky and once more for love,'" she said. Chubb nodded thoughtfully.**

"Turn's out that the old bird only rolled it seven times. Eight would be decent, but seven..." Jenny said, trailing off as she realized what she was talking about. Rodney continued.

 **"Interesting. Interesting," he said, then, looking up at the Baron, he nodded. "I'll take her, my lord."**

 **"What a surprise," the Baron said mildly, then added, "Very well, report to the kitchens in the morning, Jennifer."**

 **"Jenny, sir," the girl corrected him again, her smile lighting up the room.**

 **Baron Arald smiled. He glanced at the small group before him. "And that leaves us with one more candidate." He glanced at his list, then looked up to meet Will's agonized gaze, gesturing encouragement.**

 **Will stepped forward, nervousness suddenly drying his throat so that his voice came out in barely a whisper.**

 **"Will, sir. My name is Will."**

"And with that we've finished the chapter," Rodney concluded.


	6. Chapter 4

**I don't claim to own any of the content in this story.**

 **Reviews and such are helpful and welcome, but inappropriate material are neither.**

 **Thank's for reading guys!**

* * *

Battlemaster Rodney tossed the book over to Princess Cassandra, who-thankfully-caught it and began to read, amid Lady Pauline's scolding of Rodney.

 **"Will? Will who?"**

"Didn't he have a little more tact that that?" Cassandra cried, interrupting herself. "I mean, here you have a boy who doesn't know his parent's names, and he goes; 'Will? Will who?' Ugh, pathetic!" She finished with a huff.

"Wow Cass... don't get pulled in too deep," cautioned Sir Horace with a smile.

 **Martin asked in exasperation, flicking through the sheets of paper with the candidates' details written on them. He had only been the Baron's secretary for five years and so knew nothing of Will's history. He realized now that there was no family name on the boy's papers and, assuming he had let this mistake slip past, he was annoyed at himself.**

 **"What's your family name, boy?" he asked severely. Will looked at him, hesitating, hating this moment.**

 **" I… don't have…" he began, but mercifully the Baron interceded.**

 **"Will is a special case, Martin," he said quietly, his look telling the secretary to let the matter go. He turned back to Will, smiling encouragement.**

 **"What school did you wish to apply for, Will?" he asked.**

 **"Battleschool, please, my lord," Will replied, trying to sound confident in his choice.**

"They always try to sound confidant, they think somehow it'll help'em," remarked Baron Arald.

 **The Baron allowed a frown to crease his forehead and Will felt his hopes sinking.**

 **"Battleschool, Will? You don't think you're… a little on the small side?" the Baron asked gently. Will bit his lip. He had all but convinced himself that if he wanted this badly enough, if he believed in himself strongly enough, he would be accepted-in spite of his obvious shortcomings.**

 **"I haven't had my growing spurt yet, sir," he said desperately. "Everybody says that." The Baron rubbed his bearded chin with thumb and forefinger as he considered the boy before him. He glanced to his Battlemaster.**

 **"Rodney?" he said.**

 **The tall knight stepped forward, studied Will for a moment or two, then slowly shook his head.**

 **" I'm afraid he's too small, my lord," he said. Will felt a cold hand clutch his heart.**

 **"I'm stronger than I look, sir," he said. But the Battlemaster was unswayed by the plea. He glanced at the Baron, obviously not enjoying the situation, and shook his head.**

 **"Any second choice, Will?" the Baron asked. His voice was gentle, even concerned.**

 **Will hesitated for a long moment. He had never considered any other selection.**

"Really? I didn't know that," said Horace. "You really had never considered anything else?"

"Well, had you?" retorted Will. Horace didn't have a comeback to that.

 **"Horseschool, sir?" he asked finally.**

 **Horseschool trained and cared for the mighty battlehorses that the castle's knights rode. It was at least a link to Battleschool,**

"So that's why he choose it," Halt mused silently to himself. Like Horace, he was also puzzled at the second choice.

 **Will thought. But Ulf, the Horsemaster, was shaking his head already, even before the Baron asked his opinion.**

 **"I need apprentices, my lord," he said, "but this one's too small. He'd never control one of my battlehorses. They'd stomp him into the ground as soon as look at him."**

 **Will could only see the Baron through a watery blur now. He fought desperately to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks. That would be the ultimate humiliation: to be rejected from Battleschool and then to break down and cry like a baby in front of the Baron, all the Craftmasters and his wardmates.**

 **"What skills do you have, Will?" the Baron was asking him.**

 **Will racked his brain. He wasn't good at lessons and languages, as Alyss was. He couldn't form neat, perfect letters, the way George did. Nor did he have Jenny's interest in cooking.**

 **And he certainly didn't have Horace's muscles and strength.**

"Ooohh, I have muscles and stregnth," Horace teased with a grin.

"Shut up Horace," said Will, ruffled.

 **"I'm a good climber, sir," he said finally, seeing that the Baron was waiting for him to say something. It was a mistake, he realized instantly. Chubb, the cook, glared at him angrily.**

 **"He can climb, all right. I remember when he climbed up a drainpipe into my kitchen and stole a tray of sweetcakes that were cooling on the windowsill."**

 **Will's jaw dropped with the unfairness of it all. That had been two years ago! He was a child then and it was a mere childish prank, he wanted to say. But now the Scribemaster was talking too.**

 **"And just this last spring he climbed up to our third-floor study and turned two rabbits loose during one of our legal debates. Most disruptive. Absolutely!"**

 **"Rabbits, you say, Scribemaster?" said the Baron, and Nigel nodded emphatically.**

 **"A male and a female rabbit, my lord, if you take my meaning?" he replied. "Most disruptive indeed!" Unseen by Will, the very serious Lady Pauline put one elegant hand in front of her mouth.**

Lady Pauline snorted in a very un-lady like way.

 **She might have been concealing a yawn. But when she removed the hand, the corners of her mouth were slightly uptilted still.**

 **"Well, yes," said the Baron. "We all know how rabbits are."**

 **"And, as I said, my lord, it was spring." Nigel went on, in case the Baron had missed the point. Lady Pauline gave vent to an unladylike cough.**

"Really Pauline, I'm very disappointed in you," King Duncan said in mock seriousness while everyone laughed.

 **The Baron looked in her direction, in some surprise.**

 **"I think we get the picture, Scribemaster," he said, then returned his gaze to the desperate figure who stood in front of him. Will kept his chin up and stared straight ahead. The Baron felt for the young lad in that moment. He could see the tears welling up in those lively brown eyes, held back only by an infinite determination. Willpower, he thought abstractedly, recognizing the play on the boy's name. He didn't enjoy putting the boy through all this, but it had to be done. He sighed inwardly.**

 **"Is there any one of you who could use this boy?" he said.**

 **Despite himself, Will allowed his head to turn and gaze pleadingly at the line of Craftmasters, praying that one of them would relent and accept him. One by one, silently, they shook their heads.**

 **Surprisingly, it was the Ranger who broke the awful silence in the room.**

 **"There is something you should know about this boy, my lord," he said. Will had never heard Halt speak before. His voice was deep and soft-spoken, with the slightest burr of a Hibernian accent still noticeable.**

"Hhmmm, so I still have a bit of the old accent," Halt thought to himself. He was going to learn a lot from this book.

 **He stepped forward now and handed the Baron a sheet of paper, folded double. Arald unfolded it, studied the words written there and frowned.**

 **"You're sure of this, Halt?" he said.**

 **"Indeed, my lord."**

 **The Baron carefully refolded the paper and placed it on his desk. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desktop, then said:**

 **"I'll have to think on this overnight."**

 **Halt nodded and stepped back, seeming to fade into the background as he did so. Will stared anxiously at him, wondering what information the mysterious figure had passed on to the Baron. Like most people, Will had grown up believing that Rangers were people who were best avoided. They were a secretive, arcane group,**

Gilan and Crowley snorted simultaneously.

 **shrouded in mystery and uncertainty, and that uncertainty led to fear.**

 **Will didn't like the thought that Halt knew something about him-something that he felt was important enough to bring to the Baron's attention today, of all days. The sheet of paper lay there, tantalizingly close, yet impossibly far away.**

 **He realized that there was movement around him and the Baron was speaking to the other people in the room.**

 **"Congratulations to those who were selected here today. It's a big day for all of you, so you're free to have the rest of the day off and enjoy yourselves. The kitchens will provide a banquet for you in your quarters and for the rest of the day you have free run of the castle and the village.**

 **"Tomorrow, you'll report to your new Craftmasters first thing in the morning. And if you'll take a tip from me, you'll make sure you're on time." He smiled at the other four, then addressed Will, with a hint of sympathy in his voice.**

 **"Will, I'll let you know tomorrow what I've decided about you. "He turned to Martin and gestured for him to show the new apprentices out. "Thank you, everyone," he said, and left the room through the door behind his desk.**

"Hold up, what would you've done if I had not passed the "test"?" Will asked, curious.

Halt exchanged a glance with Arald before speaking. "I probably would've made you my apprentice anyway," he confessed.

"Really?" He replied with some indignation. "You mean I didn't have to climb a t-"

"Will! Don't spoil it for the rest of us!" reprimanded Cassandra severely.

 **The Craftmasters followed his lead, then Martin ushered the former wards to the door. They chatted together excitedly, relieved and delighted that they had been selected by the Craftmasters of their choice.**

 **Will hung back behind the others, hesitating as he passed the desk where that sheet of paper still lay. He stared at it for a moment, as if somehow he could see through to the words written on the reverse side. Then he felt that same sensation that he had felt earlier, that someone was watching him. He looked up and found himself staring into the dark eyes of the Ranger, who remained behind the Baron's high-backed chair, almost invisible in that strange cloak of his.**

 **Will shuddered in a sudden frisson of fear and hurried out of the room.**

"Will, you were afraid of me?" Halt asked seriously.

"Well, yeah, I was," said Will uncomfortably.

"Hhhmmmm," Halt pondered as Cassandra gave the book to her husband, Horace.


	7. Chapter 5

**As always, I don't own the story or any of the characters and places within.**

 **Thanks for all the follows and reviews! Keep it up!**

 **No inappropriate material or profanity please!**

* * *

After everyone had quieted down, Horace began to read.

 **It was long after midnight. The flickering torches around the castle yard, already replaced once, had begun to burn low again. Will had watched patiently for hours, waiting for this moment-when the light was uncertain and the guards were yawning, in the last hour of their shift.**

Gilan and Crowley exchanged a glance, both impressed that Will had known that without any training.

 **The day had been one of the worst he could remember. While his yearmates celebrated, enjoying their feast and then spending their time in lighthearted horseplay through the castle and the village, Will had slipped away to the silence of the forest, a kilometer or so from the castle walls. There, in the dim green coolness beneath the trees, he had spent the afternoon reflecting bitterly on the events of the Choosing, nursing the deep pain of disappointment and wondering what the Ranger's paper said.**

 **As the long day wore on, and the shadows began to lengthen in the open fields beside the forest, he came to a decision.**

 **He had to know what was on the paper. And he had to know tonight.**

 **Once night fell, he made his way back to the castle, avoiding villagers and castle folk alike, and secreted himself in the branches of the fig tree again. On the way, he slipped unnoticed into the kitchens and helped himself to bread, cheese and apples.**

"What!" exclaimed Jenny. "If you'dve come to me, you would've had more than just bread, cheese, and an apple or two."

"I know Jen," was Will's reply. "And I know you wouldn't of told. But I didn't want you to worry about me."

"Well, still, I think you mightn't of told us," she insisted.

 **He munched moodily on these, barely tasting them, as the evening passed and the castle began to settle down for the night.**

 **He observed the movements of the guards, getting a feeling for their timing as they went on their regular rounds. In addition to the guard troop, there was a sergeant on duty at the doorway of the tower that led to Baron Arald's quarters. But he was overweight and sleepy and there was little chance that he would pose a risk to Will.**

"Yes, we haven't done a security check in a while, have we Rodney?" Baron Arald mused.

"No sir, we haven't," came the reply.

 **After all, he had no intention of using the door or the stairway.**

"Well, how will he get up there?" Princess Cassandra thought to herself.

 **Over the years, his insatiable curiosity, and a penchant for going places where he wasn't supposed to, had developed within him the skill of moving across seemingly open space without being seen.**

Halt nodded his approval.

 **As the wind stirred the upper branches of the trees, they created moving patterns in the moonlight-patterns that Will now used to great effect.**

 **He instinctively matched his movement to the rhythm of the trees, blending easily into the pattern of the yard, becoming part of it and so being concealed by it. In a way, the lack of obvious cover made his task a little easier. The fat sergeant didn't expect anyone to be moving across the open space of the yard. So, not expecting to see anyone, he failed to do so.**

"As soon as I get back I'm going to organize a security check," decided the baron.

 **Breathless, Will flattened himself against the rough stone of the tower wall. The sergeant was barely five meters away and Will could hear his heavy breathing, but a small buttress in the wall hid him from the man's sight. He studied the wall in front of him, craning back to look up. The Baron's office window was a long way up, and farther around the tower. To reach it, he would have to climb up, then work his way across the face of the wall, to a spot beyond the point where the sergeant stood guard, then up again to the window. He licked his lips nervously. Unlike the smooth inner walls of the tower, the huge blocks of stone that comprised the tower's outer wall had large gaps between them. Climbing would be no problem. He'd have plenty of foot- and handholds all the way up. In some places, the stone would have been worn smooth by the weather over the years, he knew, and he'd have to go carefully. But he'd climbed all the other three towers at some time in the past and he expected no real difficulty with this one.**

"Really? I didn't know that," commented Arald.

 **But this time, if he were seen, he wouldn't be able to pass it off as a prank. He would be climbing in the middle of the night to a part of the castle where he had no right to be. After all, the Baron didn't post guards on this tower for the fun of it. People were supposed to stay away unless they had business here.**

 **He rubbed his hands together nervously. What could they do to him? He had already been passed over in the Choosing. Nobody wanted him.**

"That was not true, Will," said Crowley softly.

 **He was condemned to a life in the fields already. What could be worse than that?**

"How 'bout life in the prisons?" Gilan said sarcastically.

 **But there was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind: He wasn't absolutely sure that he was condemned to that life. A faint spark of hope still remained. Perhaps the Baron would relent. Perhaps, if Will pleaded with him in the morning, and explained about his father and how important it was for him to be accepted for Battleschool, there was a very faint chance that his wish would be granted. And then, once he was accepted, he could show how his eagerness and dedication would make him a worthy student, until his growing spurt happened.**

 **On the other hand, if he were caught in the next few minutes, not even that small chance would remain. He had no idea what they would do to him if he were caught, but he could be reasonably sure that it wouldn't involve being accepted into Battleschool.**

 **He hesitated, needing some slight extra push to get him going. It was the fat sergeant who provided it. Will heard the heavy intake of breath, the shuffling of the man's studded boots against the flagstones as he gathered his equipment together, and he realized that the sergeant was about to make one of his irregular circuits of his beat. Usually, this entailed going a few meters around the tower to either side of the doorway, then returning to his original position. It was more for the purpose of staying awake than anything else,**

Halt frowned in disapproval.

 **but Will realized that it would bring them face-to-face within the next few seconds if he didn't do something.**

 **Quickly, easily, he began to swarm up the wall. He made the first five meters in a matter of seconds, spread out against the rough stone like a giant, four-legged spider. Then, hearing the heavy footsteps directly below him, he froze, clinging to the wall in case some slight noise might alert the sentry.**

 **In fact, it seemed that the sergeant had heard something. He paused directly below the point where Will clung, peering into the night, trying to see past the dappled, moving shadows cast by the moon and the swaying trees. But, as Will had thought the night before, people seldom look up. The sergeant, eventually satisfied that he had heard nothing significant, continued to march slowly around the tower.**

 **That was the chance Will needed. It also gave him the opportunity to move across the tower face so that he was directly below the window he wanted. Hands and feet finding purchase easily, he moved almost as fast as a man could walk,**

Duncan whistled.

 **all the time going higher and higher up the tower wall.**

 **At one point, he looked down and that was a mistake. Despite his good head for heights, his vision swam slightly as he saw how far he had come, and how far below him the hard flagstones of the castle yard were. The sergeant was coming back into view-a tiny figure when seen from this height. Will blinked the moment of vertigo away and continued to climb, perhaps a little more slowly and with a little more care than before.**

 **There was a heart-stopping moment when, stretching his right foot to a new foothold, his left boot slipped on the weather-rounded edge of the massive building blocks, and he was left clinging by his hands alone as he desperately scrabbled for a foothold. Then he recovered and kept moving.**

 **He felt a surge of relief as his hands finally closed over the stone window ledge and he heaved himself up and into the room, swinging his legs over the sill and dropping lightly inside.**

 **The Baron's office was deserted, of course.**

Halt snorted again.

 **The three-quarter moon streamed light in through the big window.**

 **And there, on the desk where the Baron had left it, was the single sheet of paper that held the answer to Will's future. Nervously, he glanced around the room. The Baron's huge, high-backed chair stood like a sentry behind the desk. The few other pieces of furniture loomed dark and motionless. On one wall, a portrait of one of the Baron's ancestors glared down at him, accusingly.**

Everybody chuckled at that.

 **He shook off these fanciful thoughts and crossed quickly to the desk, his soft boots making no noise on the bare boards of the floor. The sheet of paper, bright white with the reflected moonlight, was within reach. Just look at it, read it and go, he told himself. That was all he had to do. He stretched out a hand for it.**

 **His fingers touched it.**

 **And a hand shot out of nowhere and seized him by the wrist!**

Cassandra started in surprise.

 **Will shouted aloud in fright. His heart leaped into his mouth and he found himself looking up into the cold eyes of Halt the Ranger.**

"Still sure the office was deserted, Will?" teased Horace.

 **Where had he come from? Will had been sure there had been nobody else in the room. And there had been no sound of a door opening. Then he remembered how the Ranger could wrap himself in that strange, mottled, gray-green cloak of his and seem to melt into the background, blending with the shadows until he was invisible.**

 **Not that it mattered how Halt had done it. The real problem was that he had caught Will, here in the Baron's office. And that meant the end to all Will's hopes.**

 **"Thought you might try something like this," said the Ranger in a low voice.**

 **Will, his heart pounding from the shock of the last few moments, said nothing. He hung his head in shame and despair.**

 **"Do you have anything to say?" Halt asked him, and Will shook his head, unwilling to look up and meet that dark, penetrating gaze. Halt's next words confirmed Will's worst fears.**

 **"Well, let's see what the Baron thinks about this," he said.**

 **"Please, Halt! Not…" Then Will stopped. There was no excuse for what he had done and the least he could do was face his punishment like a man. Like a warrior. Like his father, he thought.**

 **The Ranger studied him for a moment. Will thought he saw a brief flicker of… recognition? Then the eyes darkened once more.**

 **"What?" Halt said curtly. Will shook his head.**

 **"Nothing."**

 **The Ranger's grip was like iron around his wrist as he led Will out the door and onto the wide, curving staircase that led up to the Baron's living quarters. The sentries at the head of the stairs looked up in surprise at the sight of the grim-faced Ranger and the boy beside him.**

"I bet they did," said Pauline, chuckling at the thought.

 **At a brief signal from Halt, they stood aside and opened the doors into the Baron's apartment.**

 **The room was brightly lit and, for a moment, Will looked around in confusion. He was sure he had seen the lights go out on this floor while he waited and watched in the tree. Then he saw the heavy drapes across the window and understood. In contrast to the Baron's sparsely furnished working quarters below, this room was a comfortable clutter of settees, footstools, carpets, tapestries and armchairs. In one of these, Baron Arald sat, reading through a pile of reports.**

 **He looked up from the page he was holding as Halt entered with his captive.**

 **"So you were right," said the Baron, and Halt nodded.**

 **"Just as I said, my lord. Came across the castle yard like a shadow. Dodged the sentry as if he wasn't there and came up the tower wall like a spider."**

 **The Baron set the report down on a side table and leaned forward. "He climbed the tower, you say?" he asked, a trifle incredulously.**

 **"No rope. No ladder, my lord. Climbed it as easily as you get on your horse in the morning. Easier, in fact," Halt said, with just the ghost of a smile.**

 **The Baron frowned. He was a little overweight and sometimes he needed help getting on his horse after a late night.**

"I resent that! Nobody's perfect!" complained the baron, while most of the others grinned.

 **He obviously wasn't amused by Halt's reminding him of the fact.**

"Of course not," Arald mumbled.

 **"Well now," he said, looking sternly at Will, "this is a serious matter."**

 **Will said nothing. He wasn't sure if he should agree or disagree. Either course had its dangers. But he wished Halt hadn't put the Baron in a bad mood by referring to his weight. It certainly wouldn't make things any better for him.**

 **"So, what shall we do with you, young Will?" the Baron continued. He rose from his chair and began to pace. Will looked up at him, trying to gauge his mood. The strong, bearded face told him nothing. The Baron stopped his pacing and fingered his beard thoughtfully.**

 **"Tell me, young Will," he said, facing away from the miserable boy, "what would you do in my place? What would you do with a boy who broke into your office in the middle of the night and tried to steal an important document?"**

 **"I wasn't stealing, my lord!" The denial burst from Will before he could contain it. The Baron turned to him, one eyebrow raised in apparent disbelief. Will continued weakly, "I just… wanted to see it, that's all."**

 **"Perhaps so," said the Baron, that eyebrow still raised. "But you haven't answered my question. What would you do in my place?"**

 **Will hung his head again. He could plead. He could apologize. He could ask for mercy. He could try to explain. But then he squared his shoulders and came to a decision. He had known the consequences of being caught. And he had chosen to take the risk. He had no right now to plead for forgiveness.**

 **"My lord…" he said, hesitantly, knowing that this was a decisive moment in his life. The Baron regarded him, still half turned from the window.**

 **"Yes?" he said, and Will somehow found the resolve to go on.**

 **"My lord, I don't know what I'd do in your place. I do know there is no excuse for my actions and I will accept whatever punishment you decide."**

 **As he spoke, he raised his face to look the Baron in the eye. And in doing so, he caught the Baron's quick glance to Halt. There was something in that glance, he saw. Strangely, it was almost a look of approval, or agreement. Then it was gone.**

 **"Any suggestions, Halt?" the Baron asked, in a carefully neutral tone.**

 **Will looked at the Ranger now. His face was stern, as it always was. The grizzled gray beard and short hair made him seem even more disapproving, more ominous.**

 **"Perhaps we should show him the paper he was so keen to see, my lord," he said, producing the single sheet from inside his sleeve.**

"Yes, how did you manage do get it up your sleeve, Halt?" inquired Will curiously. Looking back on his life he realized a lot of things were unknown to him.

"While you were staring like a doofus in shock, I slipped the paper up my sleeve," Halt answered.

 **The Baron allowed a smile to break through. "Not a bad idea," he said. "I suppose, in a way, it does spell out his punishment, doesn't it?"**

 **Will glanced from one man to the other. There was something going on here that he didn't understand. The Baron seemed to think that what he had just said was rather amusing. Halt, on the other hand, wasn't sharing in the fun.**

 **"If you say so, my lord," he replied evenly. The Baron waved a hand at him impatiently.**

 **"Take a joke, Halt! Take a joke! Well, go on and show him the paper."**

 **The Ranger crossed the room and handed Will the sheet he had risked so much to see. His hand trembled as he took it. His punishment? But how had the Baron known he would deserve punishment before the actual event?**

 **He realized that the Baron was watching him expectantly. Halt, as ever, was an impassive statue. Will unfolded the sheet and read the words Halt had written there.**

 **The boy Will has the potential to be trained as a Ranger.**

 **I will accept him as my apprentice.**

"So that's how Halt excepted you as a Ranger," said the King as Horace wrapped up the chapter. "I always wondered how it took place."

Horace leaned across the table to give the book to Pauline who started up the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 6

**Here's the next chapter guys. Hope ya'll enjoy!**

 **Reviews** **and constructive criticism welco** **me!**

 **No inappropriate material or profanity.**

* * *

 **Will stared at the words on the paper in utter confusion.**

 **His first reaction was one of relief. He wasn't to be condemned to a lifetime of farmwork. And he wasn't to be punished for his actions in the Baron's study. Then that initial sense of relief gave way to a sudden, nagging doubt. He knew nothing about Rangers, beyond myth and superstition. He knew nothing about Halt-apart from the fact that the grim, gray-cloaked figure had made him feel nervous whenever he was around.**

Everyone save Will carefully hid a smirk.

 **Now, it seemed, he was being assigned to spend all his time with him. And he wasn't sure that he liked the idea at all.**

At this, Gilan and Horace laughed out loud, while Halt merely raised an eyebrow.

 **He looked up at the two men. The Baron, he could see, was smiling expectantly. Apparently, he felt that Will should greet his decision as good news. He couldn't see Halt's face clearly. The deep cowl of his cloak left his face in shadow.**

 **The Baron's smile faded slightly. He appeared a little puzzled by Will's reaction to the news-or rather, his lack of any visible reaction,**

 **"Well, what do you say, Will?" he asked, in an encouraging tone. Will drew a deep breath.**

 **"Thank you, sir…my lord," he said uncertainly. What if the Baron's earlier joke about the note containing his punishment was more serious than he thought? Maybe being assigned to be Halt's apprentice was the worst punishment he could have chosen. But the Baron certainly didn't look as if he thought so. He seemed to be very pleased with the idea, and Will knew he wasn't an unkind man.**

"Thank you for that Will," said Arald, half mockingly. "And you were right Will, I'm not an unkind man." he finished with a chuckle, while everyone joined in.

 **The Baron gave a little sigh of pleasure as he lowered himself into an armchair. He looked up at the Ranger and gestured toward the door.**

 **"Perhaps you might give us a few moments alone, Halt? I'd like to have a word with Will in private," he said. The Ranger bowed gravely.**

 **"Certainly, my lord," he said, the voice coming from deep inside the cowl. He moved, silently as ever, past Will and out through the door that led to the corridor outside. The door closed behind him with barely a sound, and Will shivered. The man was uncanny!**

 **"Sit down, Will." The Baron gestured to one of the low armchairs facing his own. Will sat nervously on the edge of it, as if poised for flight. The Baron noted his body language and sighed.**

 **"You don't seem very pleased with my decision," he said, sounding disappointed. The reaction puzzled Will. He wouldn't have thought a powerful figure like the Baron would care one way or another what an insignificant ward would think about his decisions.**

"But I do care, Will," Arald said, all seriousness now. "I care about how jolly near everybody cares about me."

Will lowered his head, touched.

 **He didn't know how to answer, so he sat in silence, until finally the Baron continued.**

 **"Would you prefer to work as a farmhand?" he asked. He couldn't believe that a lively, energetic boy like this could possibly prefer such a dull, uneventful life, but maybe he was wrong. Will hurriedly reassured him on that score.**

 **"No, sir!" he said hastily. The Baron made a small, questioning gesture with his hands.**

 **"Well then, would you prefer that I punished you somehow for what you've done?"**

 **Will started to speak, then realized that his answer might be insulting and stopped. The Baron gestured for him to continue.**

 **"It's just that… I'm not sure you haven't, sir," he said.**

"Oh, good job Will!" Gilan roared with laughter. Everyone was laughing, even Halt was chuckling.

 **Then, noticing the frown that creased the Baron's forehead as he said the words, he hurried on: "I… I don't know much about Rangers, sir. And people say…" He let the words trail off. It was obvious that the Baron held Halt in some esteem and Will didn't think it was politic for him to point out that ordinary people feared Rangers and thought they were warlocks.** **He saw that the Baron was nodding, and a look of understanding had replaced the perplexed expression he had been wearing.**

 **"Of course. People say they're black magicians, don't they?" he agreed and Will nodded, not even realizing he was doing so.**

Everyone snorted, giggled, or rolled their eyes.

 **"Tell me, Will, do you find Halt to be a frightening person?"**

 **"No, sir!" Will said hastily, then, as the Baron held his gaze, he reluctantly added, "Well… maybe a bit."**

The laughter started up again, and Will, pulling Alyss so that she was a shield, hid from everyone. But even Will was laughing now. Everybody was slapping backs, rolling on the ground, or merely sat, speechless with mirth. At last, they got themselves under control, and Pauline began to read again.

 **The Baron leaned back, steepling his fingers together. Now that he understood the reasons for the boy's reluctance, he berated himself mentally for not foreseeing them. After all, he had a better knowledge of the Ranger Corps than he could expect of a young boy just turned fifteen who was subjected to the usual superstitious mutterings of the castle staff.**

 **"The Rangers are a mysterious group of people," he said. "But there's nothing about them to be frightened of-unless you're an enemy of the kingdom." He could see that the boy was hanging on his every word, and he added, jokingly, "You're not an enemy of the kingdom, are you, Will?"**

 **"No, sir!" Will said in sudden fright, and the Baron sighed again.**

"Good job Arald!" Halt-surprisingly-said sarcastically. "First you put the boy through an emotional and tiring trauma, and now you frighten him with your perverted humour!"

"Steady Halt, steady," Pauline half comforted, half commanded while everyone else sat in shocked silence.

"Sorry Arald," Halt finally said, and Pauline began to read, hoping to break the very awkward silence.

 **He hated it when people didn't realize he was joking. Unfortunately, as overlord of the castle, his words were treated with great seriousness by most people.**

 **"All right, all right," he said reassuringly. "I know you're not. But believe me, I thought you'd be glad of this appointment-an adventurous lad like you should take to life as a Ranger like a duck to water. It's a big opportunity for you, Will." He paused, studying the boy closely, seeing that he was still uncertain about the whole matter. "Very few boys are chosen to be apprentice Rangers, you know. The opportunity only comes up on rare occasions." Will nodded. But he still wasn't totally convinced. He thought he owed it to his dream to have one last attempt at Battleschool. After all, the Baron did seem to be in an uncommonly good mood this evening, in spite of the fact that Will had broken into his office.**

 **"I wanted to be a warrior, sir," he said tentatively, but the Baron shook his head immediately.**

 **"I'm afraid your talents lie in other directions. Halt knew that when he first saw you. That's why he asked for you."**

 **"Oh," said Will. There wasn't much else he could say. He felt he should be reassured by all that the Baron had said and, to a certain degree, he was. But there was still so much uncertainty to it all, he thought.**

 **"It's just that Halt seems to be so grim all the time,"**

"Well at least Arald has some humor, where as Halt doesn't have any," Gilan said to restore the festive atmosphere, and to a part, it worked.

 **he said. "He certainly doesn't have my sparkling sense of humor," the Baron agreed, then, as Will looked blankly at him, he muttered something under his breath.**

 **Will wasn't sure what he'd done to upset him, so he thought it best to change the subject. "But… what does a Ranger actually do, my lord?" he asked. Once again, the Baron shook his head.**

 **"That's for Halt to tell you himself. They're a quirky group**

"Really Arald," Crowley said with a shake of his head. "Quirky?"

 **and they don't like other people talking about them too much. Now, perhaps you should go back to your quarters and try to get some sleep. You're to report to Halt's cottage at six o'clock in the morning."**

 **"Yes, my lord," Will said, rising from his uncomfortable perch on the edge of the chair. He wasn't sure if he was going to enjoy life as a Ranger's apprentice, but it appeared he had no choice in the matter. He bowed to the Baron, who nodded briefly in return, then he turned away for the door. The Baron's voice stopped him.**

 **"Will? This time, use the stairs."**

 **"Yes, my lord," he replied seriously, and was a little puzzled by the way the Baron rolled his eyes to the sky and muttered to himself again. This time, he could make out a few words. It was something about "jokes," he thought.**

 **He let himself out through the door. The sentries were still on duty on the landing by the stairs, but Halt was gone.**

 **Or at least, he appeared to be. With the Ranger, you could never be quite certain.**

"And with that, I think we should have our luncheon," decided the King.

As everybody filed out of the room, Pauline nudged Halt towards Arald. Halt, rather awkwardly, took Arald aside and apologized to him, under Pauline's watchful eye. Pauline could see Arald slapping Halt on the back, and awkwardly saying that; "It's nothing ol' bean. I've took a lot worse then that." Halt, under the circumstances, decided to let the bean reference go.

Then, when everything was taken care of Pauline, Halt, and Arald, made their way to the dining room.

 **O**

Once everyone had at least marginally finished their food, King Duncan began to read.


	9. Chapter 7

**So how did you like the moment in the last chapter between Halt and Arald? Please let me know in a review.**

 **I do not own any of the character or places in this story.**

 **Sorry I haven't been writing more guys. Recently I've been doing much more reading than writing.**

 **Reviews** **are welcome, however, no inappropriate material or profanity please.**

* * *

King Duncan began to read.

 **It felt strange to be leaving the castle after all these years. Will turned back at the bottom of the hill, his small bundle of belongings slung over his shoulder, and stared up at the massive walls.**

 **Castle Redmont dominated the landscape. Built on top of a small hill, it was a massive, three-sided structure, facing roughly west and with a tower at each of the three corners. In the center, protected by the three curtain walls, were the castle yard and the Keep, a fourth tower that soared above the others and housed the Baron's official quarters and his private living apartments, along with those of his senior officers. The castle was built in ironstone-a rock that was almost indestructible and, in the low sun of early morning or late afternoon, seemed to glow with an inner red light. It was this characteristic that gave the castle its name-Redmont, or Red Mountain.**

"You have lovely descriptive skills, just lovely Will," remarked Pauline.

"He learned them from us," said Crowley proudly.

"But Will hadn't yet officially joined the Ranger Corp," argued Alyss.

"Oh, yes, I hadn't considered that," Crowley replied awkwardly as everybody laughed.

 **At the foot of the hill, and on the other side of the Tarbus River, lay Wensley Village, a cheerfully haphazard cluster of houses, with an inn and those craft shops necessary to meet the demands of day-to-day country life-a cooper, wheelwright, smithy and harness maker. The land around had been cleared for some distance, both to provide farmlands for the villagers to tend and to prevent enemies from being able to approach unseen. In times of danger, the villagers would drive their flocks across the wooden bridge that spanned the Tarbus, removing the center span behind them, and seek shelter behind the massive ironstone walls of the castle, protected by the Baron's soldiers and the knights trained in Redmont's Battleschool.**

 **Halt's cottage lay some distance away from both castle and village, nestling under the shelter of the trees at the edge of the forest. The sun was just rising over the trees as Will made his way to the log cabin. A thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney, so Will reasoned that Halt was already up and about. He stepped up onto the verandah that ran the length of one side of the house, hesitated for a moment, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the door.**

 **"Come in," said a voice from inside. Will opened the door and went into the cottage.**

 **It was small but surprisingly neat and comfortable-looking inside.**

"What, you thought Rangers lived in prison quarters?" guffawed Gilan.

"Well, at the time, I had never seen a Ranger's home, and since they seemed so mysterious to me, I guess I reckoned that they would have mysterious quarters as well," reasoned Will before Duncan started up again.

 **He found himself in the main room, a combined living and dining area, with a small kitchen at one end, separated from the main area by a pine bench. There were comfortable chairs ranged around a fire, a well-scrubbed wooden table and pots and pans that gleamed from much polishing. There was even a vase of brightly colored wildflowers on the mantel shelf, and the early morning sun streamed cheerfully through a large window. Two other rooms led off the main room.**

 **Halt sat in one of the chairs, his booted feet resting on the table. "At least you're on time," he said gruffly. "Have you had your breakfast yet?"**

 **"Yes, sir," said Will, staring in fascination at the Ranger. This was the first time he had ever seen Halt without his gray-green cloak and hood. The Ranger was wearing simple brown and gray woolen clothes and soft-looking leather boots. He was older than Will had realized.**

"Thank you for that, Will," Halt said sarcastically.

 **His hair and beard were short and dark, but peppered with steel gray flecks. They were both roughly trimmed and Will thought they looked as if Halt had cut them himself with his hunting knife.**

 **The Ranger stood up. He was surprisingly small in build. That was something else that Will had never realized. The gray cloak had concealed a lot about Halt. He was slim and not at all tall. In fact he was considerably shorter than average height.**

"Really Will? You make me seem soft, even weak!" Halt glared at Will.

"Wait a minute Halt, before you go accusing me," Will replied. "I think I thought something else as well."

 **But there was a sense of power and whipcord strength about him so that his lack of height and bulk didn't make him any less daunting a figure.**

"Ha! See Halt?" Will smirked triumphantly, while Halt grudgingly admitted that Will was right.

 **"Finished staring?" asked the Ranger suddenly.**

 **Will jumped nervously. "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" he said.**

 **Halt grunted. He pointed to one of the small rooms Will had noticed as he entered.**

 **"That'll be your room. You can put your things in there." He moved away to the woodstove in the kitchen area and Will hesitantly entered the room he had indicated. It was small but, like the rest of the cottage, it was also clean and comfortable-looking. A small bed lay alongside one wall. There was a wardrobe for clothes and a rough table with a washing basin and jug on it. There was also, Will noticed, another vase of freshly picked wildflowers adding a bright spot of color to the room. He put his small bundle of clothes and belongings on the bed and went back into the main room.**

 **Halt was still busy by the stove, his back to Will. Will coughed apologetically to attract his attention.**

"Oooh, not a good idea Will," smiled Gilan gleefully.

 **Halt continued to stir coffee into a pot on the stove.**

 **Will coughed again.**

 **"Got a cold, boy?"**

Gilan snickered.

 **asked the Ranger, without turning around. "Er… no, sir."**

 **"Then why are you coughing?" asked Halt, turning around to face him.**

Now the whole room was smirking.

 **Will hesitated. "Well, sir," he began uncertainly, "I just wanted to ask you… what does a Ranger actually do?"**

 **"He doesn't ask pointless questions, boy!"**

At this Horace laughed out loud.

 **said Halt. "He keeps his eyes and ears open and he looks and listens and eventually, if he hasn't got too much cotton wool between his ears, he learns!"**

 **"Oh," said Will. "I see." He didn't, and even though he realized that this was probably no time to ask more questions, he couldn't help himself, repeating, a little rebelliously, "I just wondered what Rangers do, is all."**

 **Halt caught the tone in his voice and turned to him, a strange gleam in his eye.**

 **"Well then, I suppose I'd better tell you," he said. "What Rangers do, or more correctly, what Rangers' _apprentices_ do, is the housework." Will had a sinking feeling as the suspicion struck him that he'd made a tactical error. "The… housework?" he repeated. Halt nodded, looking distinctly pleased with himself.**

Crowley looked at Halt incredulously. "Halt, you made your apprentices do the housework?!" he cried.

"Oh yes," said Halt. "And I had a heck of a time watching them do it too," he finished, satisfied.

"I mean, I know different Rangers have their different ways of training apprentices, but the housework?" Crowley repeated himself. He shook his head in despair, "What is the world coming to these days?" he moaned to nobody really.

"Well actually Crowley, this was about oh, eleven years ago, so you should rephrase your question something like this 'What was the world like back then?' Yes, that would have been more appropriate." Halt shot back at Crowley, pleased that he had scored a point in their ongoing verbal battle. Finally, Duncan began reading again.

 **"That's right. Take a look around." He paused, gesturing around the interior of the cabin for Will to do as he suggested, then continued, "See any servants?"**

 **"No, sir," Will said slowly.**

 **"No sir indeed!" Halt said. "Because this isn't a mighty castle with a staff of servants. This is a lowly cabin.**

At that last sentence, everyone chuckled.

 **And it has water to be fetched and firewood to be chopped and floors to be swept and rugs to be beaten. And who do you suppose might do all those things, boy?"**

 **Will tried to think of some answer other than the one which now seemed inevitable. Nothing came to mind, so he finally said, in a defeated tone, "Would that be me, sir?"**

 **"I believe it would be," the Ranger told him, then rattled off a list of instructions crisply. "Bucket there. Barrel outside the door. Water in the river. Ax in the lean-to, firewood behind the cabin. Broom by the door and I believe you can probably see where the floor might be?"**

"Really Halt, was that necessary? I get your 'Ranger wit' and all, but did you have to be that sarcastic?" Pauline reprimanded her husband, while Halt blushed slightly.

"Oooh, I do believe that is the first time I've ever seen Halt blush," Horace grinned wickedly.

 **"Yes, sir," said Will, beginning to roll up his sleeves. He'd noticed the water barrel as he approached, obviously holding the day's water supply for the cabin. He estimated that it would hold twenty or thirty buckets full. With a sigh, he realized he was going to have a busy morning.**

 **As he walked outside, the empty bucket in one hand, he heard the Ranger say contentedly as he poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down again: "I'd forgotten how much fun having an apprentice can be."**

 **Will couldn't believe that such a small and seemingly neat cottage could generate so much cleaning and general maintenance. After he had filled the water barrel with fresh river water (thirty-one buckets full), he chopped wood from a stack of logs behind the cabin, piling the split firewood into a neat stack. He swept out the cabin, then, after Halt decided that the rug on the living room floor needed beating, he rolled it up, carried it outside and draped it over a rope slung between two trees, beating it savagely so that clouds of dust flew from it. From time to time, Halt leaned out the window to give him encouragement, which usually consisted of curt comments such as "You've missed a bit on the left side" or "Put some energy into it, boy."**

"You call that encouragment?" Jenny asked incredulously.

 **When the rug had been replaced on the floor, Halt decided that several of his cooking pots didn't gleam with sufficient intensity.**

 **"We'll have to give them a bit of a scouring," he said, more or less to himself. Will knew by now that this translated to**

 **"You'll have to give them a bit of a scouring. "So, without a word, he took the pots to the river's edge and half filled them with water and fine sand, scouring and polishing the metal until it gleamed.**

 **Halt, meanwhile, had moved to a canvas chair on the verandah, where he sat reading through a tall pile of what looked to be official communications. Passing by once or twice, Will noticed that several of the papers bore crests and coats of arms, while the vast majority were headed with a simple oakleaf design.**

 **When Will returned from the riverbank, he held the pots up for Halt's inspection. The Ranger grimaced at his distorted reflection in the bright copper surface.**

 **"Hmmm. Not bad. Can see my own face in it," he said, then added, without a hint of a smile, "May not be such a good thing."**

Everybody roared with laughter. Even Halt himself cracked a smile.

 **Will said nothing. With anyone else he might have suspected it was a joke, but with Halt you simply couldn't tell. Halt studied him for a second or two, then his shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug and he gestured for Will to return the pots to the kitchen. Will was halfway through the door when he heard Halt behind him say: "Hmmm. That's odd." Thinking the Ranger might be talking to him, Will paused at the door.**

 **"I beg your pardon?" he said suspiciously. Each time Halt had found a new chore for him to attend to, he had seemed to begin the instruction with a statement like "How unusual. The living room rug is full of dust." Or "I do believe the stove is in dire need of a new supply of firewood,"**

Everybody giggled.

 **It was an affectation that Will had found more than a little annoying over the day, although Halt seemed to be quite fond of it.**

"That I was," confirmed Halt.

 **This time, however, it seemed that he had been genuinely musing to himself as he read through a new report-one of the oakleaf-crested ones, Will noted. Now, the Ranger looked up, a little surprised that Will had addressed him. "What's that?" he said.**

 **Will shrugged. "Sorry. When you said 'that's odd,' I thought you were talking to me."**

 **Halt shook his head several times, still frowning at the report in his hand. "No, no," he said, a trifle distractedly. "I was just reading this…" His voice trailed away and he frowned thoughtfully. Will, his curiosity roused, waited expectantly. "What is it?" he finally ventured to ask. As the Ranger turned those dark eyes on him, he instantly wished he hadn't. Halt regarded him for a second or two.**

 **"Curious, are you?" he said at length, and when Will nodded uncomfortably, he went on in an unexpectedly milder tone. "Well, I suppose that's a good trait for a Ranger's apprentice. After all, that's why we tested you with that paper in the Baron's office."**

"What!" the King interrupted himself. "You put him through that ordeal just to _test_ him!"

Halt and Baron Arald shared a glance. "Yes," Halt said briefly.

"That's crazy," Princess Cassandra muttered half to herself.

 **"You tested me?" Will set the heavy copper kettle down by the door. "You expected me to try to see what it said?" Halt nodded. "Would have been disappointed if you hadn't. Also, I wanted to see how you'd go about it." Then he held up a hand to forestall the torrent of questions that were about to tumble out of Will's mouth. "We'll discuss that later," he said, glancing meaningfully at the kettle and the other pots. Will stooped to retrieve them, and turned back to the house once more. But curiosity still burned in him and he turned to the Ranger again.**

 **"So what does it say?" he asked, nodding toward the report. Again there was a silence as Halt regarded him, perhaps assessing him. Then he said:**

 **"Lord Northolt is dead. Apparently killed by a bear last week while out hunting."**

"Isn't Cordom Fief to far west for bears, Dad?" Cassandra asked, with a pondering look on her face.

"Later in the book it will explain that oddity," informed Crowley.

 **"Lord Northolt?" Will asked. The name was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place it.**

 **"Former supreme commander of the King's army," Halt told him, and Will nodded, as if he had known this.**

Gilan smirked.

 **But, since Halt seemed to be answering his questions, he was emboldened to continue.**

 **"What's so odd about it? After all, bears do kill people from time to time."**

 **Halt nodded. "True. But I would have thought Cordom Fief was a little far west for bears. And I would have thought Northolt was too experienced a hunter to go after one alone." He shrugged, as if dismissing the thought. "But then again, life is full of surprises and people do make mistakes." He gestured toward the kitchen again, indicating that the conversation was over. "When you've put those away, you might like to clean out the fireplace," he said.**

 **Will moved to do as he was told. But a few minutes later, as he walked past one of the windows to the large fireplace that took up most of one wall in the living room, he glanced out to see the Ranger tapping the report thoughtfully on his chin, his thoughts obviously a long way away.**

As Duncan concluded everybody began to rise from their seats and head back to the King's study.

 **O**

Once everybody was there (which took a while since all the Rangers left to check on their horses) Duncan handed _The Ruins of Gorlan_ to Alyss, who began, once again, to read.

* * *

 **Sorry it took so long for this chapter guys! Hope ya'll enjoy!**


	10. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay guys! I think I'm going to slow down my pace to 1-2 chapters per week while I'm working on my other story which you can find here:** **s/11491437/1/Character-Commentary-The-Ruins-of-Gorlan**

 **Thanks for understanding!**

 **Reviews are welcome, but know inappropriate material or profanity.**

* * *

Alyss began to read.

 **Sometime late in the afternoon, Halt finally ran out of jobs for Will. He looked around the cabin, noting the gleaming kitchen implements, the spotless fireplace, the thoroughly swept floor and totally dust-free rug. A stack of firewood lay beside the fireplace and another stack, cut and split into shorter lengths, filled the wicker basket beside the kitchen stove.**

"He made you do all that?" Princess Cassandra gaped.

"Yup," Will said, embarrassed.

 **"Hmmm. Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all."**

 **Will felt a surge of pleasure at the sparing praise,**

"From day one you want to earn his pride," agreed Gilan. Halt raised an eyebrow, surprised.

 **but before he could feel too pleased with himself,**

"Oh yes," Gilan chuckled while rolling his eyes.

 **Halt added, "Can you cook, boy?"**

 **"Cook, sir?" Will asked uncertainly. Halt raised his eyes to some unseen superior being.**

 **"Why do young people invariably answer a question with another question?"**

"But wait a minute Alyss," Will interrupted, "Halt, isn't that what you just did?"

 **he asked. Then, receiving no reply, he continued, "Yes, cook. Prepare food so that one might eat it. Make meals. I assume you do know what food is-what meals are?"**

"Really Halt, was that necessary?" said Pauline, intending to make her husband feel guilty.

"Yes," he replied, very un-guiltily.

 **"Ye-es," Will answered, careful to take any questioning inflection out of the word.**

 **"Well, as I told you this morning, this is no grand castle. If we want to eat food here, we have to cook food here," Halt told him.**

 **There was that word we again, Will thought. Every time so far that Halt had said we must, it had seemed to translate to mean you must.**

 **"I can't cook," Will admitted, and Halt clapped his hands and rubbed them together.**

 **"Of course you can't! Most boys can't. So I'll have to show you how. Come on."**

"Ahh, now this is something I can really get into," thought Jenny to herself.

 **He led the way to the kitchen and introduced Will to the mysteries of cooking: peeling and chopping onions, choosing a piece of beef from the meat safe, trimming it and cutting it into neat cubes, then chopping vegetables, searing the beef in a sizzling pan, and finally adding a generous dash of red wine and some of what Halt called his "secret ingredients" The result was a savory-smelling stew, simmering on the top of the stove.**

"You'll have to tell me more about those 'secret ingredients', Halt," Jenny firmly recommended. Halt noncommittally nodded.

 **Now, as they waited for the dinner to be ready, they sat on the verandah in the early evening and talked quietly.**

 **"The Rangers were founded over one hundred and fifty years ago, in King Herbert's reign. Do you know anything about him?" Halt looked sideways at the boy sitting beside him, tossing the question out quickly to see his response.**

 **Will hesitated. He vaguely remembered the name from history lessons in the Ward, but he couldn't remember any details. Still, he decided he'd try to bluff his way through it.**

"Oh, bad idea Will," Gilan warned.

 **He didn't want to look too ignorant on his first day with his new master.**

Rodney snorted.

 **"Oh… yes," he said, "King Herbert. We learned about him."**

 **"Really?" said the Ranger expansively. "Perhaps you could tell me a little about him?" He leaned back and crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable. Will cast about desperately in his memory, trying to remember even a shred of detail about King Herbert.**

"Oh, this aught to be good," cried Cassandra in anticipation.

 **He'd done… something, but what?**

 **"He was…" He hesitated, pretending to gather his thoughts. "The king." That much he was sure of, and he glanced at Halt to see if he could stop now. Halt merely smiled and made a rolling gesture with his hand that meant _go on._**

 **"He was the king… a hundred and fifty years ago," Will said, trying to sound certain of his facts. The Ranger smiled at him, gesturing for him to continue yet again.**

 **"Ummm… well, I seem to recall that he was the one who founded the Ranger Corps,"**

"Wow, I'm rather impressed you remembered that," Crowley said approvingly.

"Wait, but you said th-" Will started to say indignity, before Halt abruptly cut him off.

"Continue reading, Alyss," he said.

 **he said hopefully, and Halt raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.**

 **"Really? You recall that, do you?" he said, and Will had a horrible moment where he realized that Halt had merely said the Rangers were founded during his reign, not necessarily by him.**

Now everyone had got the joke, and everyone was laughing about it.

 **"Ahhh, well, when I say he founded the Rangers, I actually mean he was the king when the Ranger Corps was founded," he said.**

 **"A hundred and fifty years ago?" Halt prompted. Will nodded emphatically. "That's right."**

 **"Well, that's remarkable, seeing how I just told you those facts a minute or so ago," the Ranger said, his eyebrows coming down like thunderclouds over his eyes.**

"Wait, but what he said was right, even if he was only guessing it!" King Duncan reprimanded Halt sternly.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but the boy had to learn that bluffing his way through was not an option. You'll find that out in the next bit," Halt replied adamantly.

 **Will thought it might be better if he had said nothing. Finally, the Ranger said, in a milder tone: "Boy, if you don't know something, don't try to bluff your way through it. Simply tell me `I don't know,' is that clear?"**

 **"Yes, Halt," Will said, eyes downcast. There was a silence, then he said, "Halt?"**

 **"Yes?"**

 **"About King Herbert… I don't really know," Will admitted. The Ranger made a small snorting noise.**

Which the princess copied.

 **"Well, I never would have guessed," he said. "But I'm sure you'll remember when I tell you that he was the one who drove the northern clans back over the border into the Highlands?" And, of course, the moment he mentioned it, Will did remember. King Herbert was known as the "Father of Modern Araluen." He had banded the fifty fiefs together into a powerful union to defeat the northern clans. Will could see a way to regain a little credit in Halt's eyes now.**

"Wait, let me guess. You're going to mention the 'Father of Araluen' bit to Halt, but I bet he'll beat you by a half-second," Gilan guessed gleefully.

 **If he mentioned the "Father of Modern Araluen" title, maybe the Ranger would…**

"See? I was right!"

"So far," replied Baron Arald before Alyss continued to read.

 **"He's sometimes known as the Father of Modern Araluen," Halt was saying, and Will realized he'd left it too late.**

"There!" Gilan triumphantly announced.

 **"He created the union between the fifty fiefs that's still our structure today."**

 **"I sort of remember that now," Will put in. He thought the addition of "sort of" helped it sound as if he wasn't just being wise after the event.**

Halt snorted in disbelief.

 **Halt looked at him, one eyebrow raised, then continued.**

 **"At the time, King Herbert felt that to remain safe, the kingdom needed an effective intelligence force."**

 **"An intelligent force?" said Will.**

Everyone burst out laughing, you used a giggling Alyss to shield him again.

 **"Not intelligent. _Intelligence._ Although it does help if your intelligence force is also intelligent. Intelligence is knowledge of what your enemies, or your potential enemies, are up to. What they're planning. What they're thinking. If you know that sort of thing in advance, you can usually come up with a plan to stop them. That's why he founded the Rangers-to keep the kingdom informed. To act as the eyes and ears of the kingdom."**

"That's Ranger duty in a nutshell," Crowley said approvingly.

 **"How do you do that?" Will asked, his interest aroused now. Halt noted the change in tone and a momentary gleam of approval touched his eyes.**

 **"We keep our eyes and ears open. We patrol the kingdom-and beyond. We listen. We observe. We report back." Will nodded to himself, thinking. Then he asked: "Is that the reason why you can make yourselves invisible?"**

Gilan smirked.

 **Again, the Ranger felt that moment of approval and satisfaction. But he made sure the boy didn't notice it.**

Pauline kicked Halt under the table.

 **"We can't make ourselves invisible," he said. "People just think we can. What we do is make ourselves very hard to see. It takes years of learning and practice to do it properly-but you already have some of the skills required."**

 **Will looked up, surprised. "I do?"**

 **"When you crossed the castle yard last night, you used the shadows and the movement of the wind to conceal yourself, didn't you?" Will nodded. "Yes. "He'd never met anyone before who actually understood his skill for moving without being seen.**

"It's rare for someone to truly understand," added Crowley.

 **Halt continued. "We use the same principles: to blend into the background. To use it to conceal us. To become part of it."**

 **"I see," said Will slowly.**

 **"The trick is to make sure that nobody else does," Halt told him. For a moment, Will thought the Ranger had made a joke. But when he looked up, Halt was as grim-faced as ever.**

 **"How many Rangers are there?" he asked. Halt and the Baron had referred more than once to the Ranger Corps, but Will had only ever seen one-and that was Halt.**

 **"King Herbert established the Corps at fifty. One for each of the fifty fiefdoms. I'm based here. My colleagues are based at the other forty-nine**

At this point Crowley practically shouted, " _Your_ colleagues! You're not the head of the Ranger Corps!"

Halt looked down guiltily, which was very unusual for Halt. "Sorry Crowley, I didn't mean it that way," Crowley, satisfied, nodded. Alyss started again.

 **castles throughout the kingdom.**

 **"In addition to providing intelligence about potential enemies, Rangers are the law keepers," said Halt. "We patrol the fiefdom assigned to us and make sure that the laws are being obeyed."**

 **"I thought Baron Arald did that," Will put in. Halt shook his head.**

 **"The Baron is a judge," he said. "People bring their complaints to him so he can settle them. Rangers enforce the law. We take the law out to the people. If a crime has been committed, we look for evidence. We're particularly suited to that role since people often don't realize we're around. We investigate to see who's responsible."**

 **"What happens then?" Will asked. Halt gave a small shrug. "Sometimes we report back to the baron of the fief and he'll have the person arrested and charged. Sometimes, if it's a matter of urgency, we just… deal with it."**

Most of the people in the room glared at Halt. Some teasingly, some not.

 **"What do we do?" Will asked before he could stop himself. Halt gave him a long, considering look.**

 **"Not too much if we've only been an apprentice for a few hours," he replied. "Those of us who've been Rangers for twenty years or more tend to know what to do without asking."**

 **"Oh," said Will, suitably chastened. Halt continued.**

 **"Then, in times of war, we act as special troops-guiding the armies, scouting before them, going behind enemy lines to cause the enemy grief and so on." He glanced down at the boy. "It's a bit more exciting than working on a farm." Will nodded. Perhaps life as a Ranger's apprentice was going to have its appeal after all.**

All the Ranger save Will, smirked.

 **"What sort of enemies?" he asked, After all, Castle Redmont had been at peace for as long as he could remember.**

 **"Enemies from within and without," Halt told him, "People like the Skandian sea raiders-or Morgarath and his Wargals."**

 **Will shivered, recalling some of the more lurid stories about Morgarath, the Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night. Halt nodded somberly as he saw Will's reaction.**

 **"Yes," he said, "Morgarath and his Wargals are definitely people to be worried about. That's why the Rangers keep an eye on them. We like to know if they're gathering, if they're getting ready for war."**

 **"Still," said Will, as much to reassure himself as for any other reason, "the last time they attacked, the barons' armies made mincemeat out of them."**

 **"That's true," Halt agreed. "But only because they'd been warned of the attack…" He paused and looked meaningfully at Will.**

 **"By a Ranger?" the boy asked.**

 **"Correct. It was a Ranger who brought word that Morgarath's Wargals were on their way… then led the cavalry across a secret ford so they could flank the enemy."**

 **"It was a great victory," Will said.**

 **"It certainly was. And all due to a Ranger's alertness and skill, and knowledge of back trails and secret paths."**

 **"My father died in that battle," Will added in a quieter voice, and Halt cast a curious look at him.**

 **"Is that so?" he said.**

 **"He was a hero. A mighty knight," Will continued. The Ranger paused, almost as if he were deciding whether to say something or not.**

Halt and Will exchanged a knowing glance.

 **Then he simply replied:**

 **"I wasn't aware of that."**

 **Will was conscious of a sense of disappointment. For a moment, he'd had a feeling that Halt knew something about his father, that he could tell him the story of his heroic death.**

As Will and Halt exchanged another look, Alyss noticed it and asked. "Why are you and Halt looking at each other like that, Will?" 

Will, embarrassed, replied, "About a month ago Halt and I had a discussion, and I found out who my father was."

"Really?" asked Duncan unnecessarily. "Well, that's great! We'll have to hear more about that later." While Cassandra and Jenny nodded in approval.

 **He shrugged to himself.**

 **"That was why I was so keen to go to Battleschool," he said finally. "To follow in his footsteps."**

 **"You have other talents," Halt told him, and Will remembered the Baron saying much the same thing to him the previous night. "Halt…" he said. The Ranger nodded for him to continue. "I was sort of wondering… the Baron said you chose me?" Halt nodded again, saying nothing.**

 **"And both of you say I have other qualities-qualities that make me suitable to be a Ranger's apprentice…"**

 **"That's right," Halt said.**

 **"Well… what are they?"**

 **The Ranger leaned back, linking his hands behind his head.**

 **"You're agile. That's good in a Ranger," he began. "And, as we've discussed, you can move quietly. That's very important. You're fast on your feet. And you're inquisitive…"**

 **"Inquisitive? How do you mean?"**

Everybody chuckled.

 **asked Will. Halt looked at him sternly.**

 **"Always asking questions. Always wanting to know answers," he explained. "That was why I had the Baron test you with that piece of paper."**

 **"But when did you first notice me? I mean, when did you first think of selecting me?" Will wanted to know.**

 **"Oh," said Halt, "I suppose it was when I watched you steal those cakes from Master Chubb's kitchen."**

 **Will's jaw dropped open with amazement.**

 **"You watched me? But that was ages ago!" He had a sudden thought. "Where were you?"**

"See what I mean?" Halt said. "You're very curious."

 **"In the kitchen," said Halt. "You were too busy to notice me when you came in."**

 **Will shook his head in wonder. He had been sure there was nobody in the kitchen. Then he remembered once again how Halt, wrapped in his cloak, could become virtually invisible. There was more to being a Ranger, he realized, than how to cook and clean.**

 **"I was impressed with your skill," said Halt. "But there was one thing that impressed me far more."**

 **"What was that?" asked Will.**

 **"Later, when Master Chubb questioned you, I saw you hesitate. You were going to deny having stolen the cakes. Then I saw you admit it. Remember? He hit you on the head with his wooden spoon." Will grinned and rubbed his head thoughtfully. He could still hear the CRACK! made by the spoon hitting his head.**

 **"I wondered if I shouldn't have lied," he admitted. Halt shook his head very slowly.**

 **"Oh, no, Will. If you'd lied, you never would have become my apprentice." He stood up and stretched, turning to go indoors to the stew simmering on the stove.**

 **"Now let's eat," he said.**

"And that is why honesty always pay off in the end!" said Jenny, who was a firm believer in telling the truth.

Alyss reached around Will to hand the book to Halt, who, once he had it, started to read.


End file.
